PS 3505 
.072 U6 
1906 
Copy 1 












Class^PS 3&Q5 

Book JL.7&3L& 

Copyright N° /?#£ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



UNSEEN SAVE OF 
SOLITUDE 

BY 

ROBERT CARIVEAU 




BOSTON 

RICHARD G. BADGER 

The Gorham Press 

1906 



Copyright 1906 by Robert Cariveau 
All Rights Reserved 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

*PP 29 1907 

/ Copynetit Entry 
AkH. Mf%% 

LlJlSS A KXc,, No. 

COPY B.7 & ■ 






Printed at 

THE GORHAM PRESS 

Boston, U. S. A. 



To the American Muse of Poesy who will either 
acclaim or disclaim me, I affectionately inscribe this 
my first volume of verse. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Unseen Save of Solitude 9 

Odes II 

To Music ii 

To an Egyptian Mummy 13 

On Ocean 14 

To a Butterfly 17 

To Winter 18 

Abstract Grandeur 20 

Summer's Farewell 22 

To Flora, Goddess of Flowers 24 

To Philomela 25 

To America 27 

To a Redbreast 28 

On a Fading Wild Rose 30 

To a Proud Belle 32 

To Sombre Beauty 33 

To Hope 35 

Sonnets 37 

After Re-Reading Rostand's Cyrano de Ber- 

gerac 37 

Poetry 38 

Ah! Dearest Love, Did I Lay Cold in Death. 38 

Fort Snelling 39 

To a Wood Thrush 40 

In a Neighbor's Garden 40 

At Minnehaha Falls, Minneapolis 41 

Candlemas 41 

At the Indian Mounds, St. Paul 42 

On a Train Excursion to Forest Lake 42 

Written on Top of Chuckanut 43 

Independence Day 43 

At Bellingham Beach 44 

I Know a Hill 44 

Life's Tide Hath Been at Ebb Full Many a 

Year 45 

5 



CONTENTS 

Page 

In the Cascades ; Triple-Peaked Index 45 

In the Rockies ; Lake MacDonald 46 

The Canadian Rockies and Selkirks 46 

On Love 47 

Summer of Autumn 47 

A Thanksgiving Prayer 48 

Christmas 48 

New Year's 49 

On the March Winds 49 

Christmas Eve 50 

Winter and Poetry 50 

On the Eternal Theme 51 

Early Autumn 5 l 

Nature 52 

Seen at the Tivoli After the St. Paul Tornado 52 

O How I Glory in Autumnal Days 53 

Seasons of Day 53 

Dawn 53 

Noon 54 

Sunset-Dusk 54 

What a Sea Shell Says 55 

Yankton, My Birthplace 55 

The Poetry of Heaven is Earth's 56 

The Music of Earth 56 

On Fame and Fate 57 

Lovely the Breezes That Have Blown Ere- 

while 57 

At My Friend's Grave 58 

If I Should Never Ope My Eyelids More. . . 58 

What a Sparrow Chirped 59 

On the Bird Murderers 59 

To Solitude 60 

Retrospection 60 

On Certain Cavilers of Mr. Richard Mansfield 61 

John Keats 61 

6 



CONTENTS 

Page 

On Whistler's Painting: "The Angry Sea".. 62 

Songs 63 

A Wild Rose 63 

Thine Absence 63 

Sleepless Dreamings 64 

Let Us to the Deep-Wood Wander 65 

May Day — 1 902 65 

Autumnal Leaves 66 

Soft Gleams 66 

I Do Not Love Thee — I Adore 67 

A Pansy for Thoughts 67 

Three Seasons 68 

Beauty's Garden 68 

A December Idyl 69 

Honor the Element of Mind 70 

At the Full of the Moon 71 

September 71 

Autumnal Serenade 72 

Hymn to Apollo 73 

The Year is a Poet 74 

Hymn to the Goddess Diana 74 

Sir Valentine and Madeline 75 

A Musketeer. Thanksgiving 76 

The Sweetness of Wormwood 77 

Quizzical Sensibility 78 

Festival 79 

A Fairy Song 80 

Sleigh Bells 81 

Elements, Elfins and Ethics 82 

Sataness 86 

Fragment — Genius 86 

Mayflowering 87 

Fragment — Life 88 

At Sioux City: Perry Creek 88 

November Song 89 

7 



CONTENTS 

Page 

An Elden Valentine 90 

Celeste 91 

Beauty 93 

Sibyl Song 98 

Romanticism 99 

On Coming Across a Bluebell in a September 

Ramble 101 

At the Death's-Head 102 

The Months: Life's Calendar 102 

Toast for Noel 103 

Easter Villanelle 104 

In Sooth — La 105 

Greed 106 

Of Childhood Reminiscent 107 

Ye Days of Chivalry 108 

Hallowe'en 109 

To Misery 109 

In Re Robin Hood 1 10 

Hesperides : Resolve ill 

Two Fragments 112 

The Fountain of Youth 112 

To Hope 113 

Sometimes in Dusk I Weep, I Know not Why 113 

The Dragon Fly 113 

While Moonbeams Float in Autumn Air 114 

Love Verses 115 

Sympathy 115 

The Poet's Friends 116 

A Picture 117 

Stanzas 118 

The Isle of Love 119 



UNSEEN SAVE OF SOLITUDE 

Unseen save of Solitude, 

Unsought save in surmise 
Thro' a veil of Dreamings viewed, 

Unsaid, unsung, it lies 
Betwixt the golden gates 

Of Dawn and Day 

Where hold high siuay 
The Destinies, the Fates, 

The Faery clan, 

The shepherd Pan, 
Queen Mab and Oberon; 
IV here mists Auroraean 

Of purple and gold 

Protect from mortal gaze the mold 
Of Loveliness and Miracle. 

Knowest thou this scene 

Of sweet serene? 
'Tis the realm of the Beautiful. 



ODES 
TO MUSIC 



What sole enchantress haunts thy magic strings? 

What Genii of imagery attend? 
What Magian betakes himself to wings? 

What heralds of spent ages deftly wend 
Here their spurred heels? Because my soul's dis- 
traught 
I crave thy sure response. I crave but aught 
Of courtesy. I crave that thou 
Mayst answer even now 
These surges turbulent of dreams unsought! 

II 

Whence issues this delicious harmony? 

What Dolphin-borne Arion ventures thus? 
What maelstrom of viewless melody 

With amorous strength incarnates Orpheus? 
Behold upon the treasure-wasteful seas 
The Buccaneer his flag flout to the breeze; 
And looms the form of Eric Red, 
And as of legions dead 
Time's erewhile baldrick, bright with mysteries. 

Ill 

Where is thy wand ? Who blooms this Pastoral 
scene ? 
Are these the famed dells of Arcady? 
The lowing flocks? The peaks of blue serene? 
The mountain snow-flowers? Ah, perhaps they be 
n 



The Alps Helvetian, or mayhap the sheen 
Of rustic visions of the fancy seen 

In vales near pleasant Gascony: 

The silent ecstacy 
Of evening cool adown the Dordogne-green. 

IV 

Oh, I could die on these soft symphonies, 

And float on Death's most argent pinions — 
To poignant sorrow making a surcease, 
One likewise to old Envy's minions, 
And rid be of Gloom's mitre: for of earth 
What mortal suffers not the troublous dearth 
Of Honor? Take your lusty lute 
O Orpheus lest mute 
And mundane Morbidness make mad my mirth! 



Music, sweet Music, breathe thy madrigals; — 

Of love, of passion, breathe; in sooth, what not? 
A stilly stream, a gushing silver falls, 
A world of foliage, a reposeful grot; 
Sing of the Saxon kings renowned of old, 
Of Spartan, Roman, knights and warriors bold; 
The Moors' Alhambra; ever serve 
The Artist; with reserve 
Sing all, breathe all, and more thou dost unfold ! 



12 



TO AN EGYPTIAN MUMMY 

Dedicated to the Egyptian mummy in the Public 
Library Museum, Minneapolis, bearing this inscrip- 
tion: "This mummy is that of a man, Amenhotsp, 
and dates from a time about the period of the Ptol- 
emic rule in Egypt, 328-30 B. C." 

Ages are on thy head thou heir of Time ! 

Thou dumb historian! Thou embalmed son 
Of realms Egyptian! If generations gone 

Shall nevermore bespeak thee, how can Rhyme, 

Rhyme, but a poet's garland for a day — 
Or Music, Painting, or the Phidian art 
Find ears and eyes for thee and throbbing heart 

While here the relique of an olden past ye lay, 

Immovable as unimpassioned clay? 

From out the Urn of the Dark Ages stalks 
Ashless yet bloodless, like a marble ghost 
Haunting old Grecian ruins, this, the boast 
Of crumbled dynasties ! O were thy walks 
Near pyramids? near sphinxes? near the Nile? 
And Loves, how many! on green, ancient eves 
Whispered the Tender Passion thro' rose-leaves? 
Perhaps thou even basked in Cleopatra's smile; — 
Yet where's one soul to tell our afterwhile 



Of thou or thine? or of the Ptolemy? 

Thou who in airy mirage saw arise 

Such scenes as mock'd description; did thine eyes 
Besides Saharan wastes or the Red Sea, 
Or Mediterranean, feast them hard upon 

Castles and unsubstantial ships? Didst thou 

Rest thee in oases? or guide a plow 

13 



Thou form! through fertile fields at Oriental 

dawn? 
To Palestine or Araby hadst gone? 

Where god Osiris kept his sovran See 

Whilst Memphian Priesthood offered sacrifice 
In temples gorgeous as was pagan vice — 
Wert thou a worshipper? When Mystery 
Shrouded with clouds, approach'd the sage, whose 
ken 
Straightway, bedreamed, caught Angels from the 

skies 
Sweet, beautifully so, — what human ties 
Were thine? What joys? What griefs? What 

hopes? — ye mortal men 
Must Art but fade like flow'rs Elysian ? 

Silence is deaf; thou art! both deaf for aye; 
But if thy brethren, who, with cassia, myrrh, 
And balsams, sought to save thy spirit, were 

Returned to question thee, shouldst thou not say: 

"Death is Art:" — Art, Deity? Like even thee 
(Tho' with a touch of Beauty) shall this verse 
Surviving — what? a hand within Time's hearse 
Become a silent voice, a Voice, Humanity 

That thou mayst heed when I no longer be. 

ON OCEAN 

I 

Ocean, how vast, how imperturbable 
Thy majesty! Nor anything withal 
Need cope with thee! Thou dost appall 

Conjecture! What thunderous anthems roll, 

Or pa?ans born of billows leap awry 

14 



Spurning all Air, and Lethargy, and Sight? 

Ocean, tumultuous, crowned with woven white 
Some mighty Titan, unsubmissively 
Seems in thy heart: One pauses wondrously 
At thine immensity! 

II 

Of hidden lore, dost thou untiring boast? 

Could not thy deeps most awful tales betray? 

Of maudlin riot? Willful mutiny? 
Most like, far und thy rock-bound coast 
Under the watery dungeons hollow delved 

A hoard exhaustless, lies: The pirate gold, 

Barbaric gems, and savage treasure old, 
Who fain might guess? Also the pageants shelved 
Of coral reef? And in thy depths at peace, 
What sundered Argosies? 

Ill 

UnrivaU'd ! Unconfined ! Uncontroll'd ! 

Where are the schooners, barks, and brigantines 
By potent storms, abused ? What purple wines 

Of juicy grape, in sinking Norman hold 

Have dyed thy flow? Embarking for this shore 
How many bold explorers braved thy might 
From isles Castilian; lands of pagan night? 

Thou canst not give reply for evermore, 

So solitary, I but weakly say 

Great Neptune, list my lay! 

IV 

Presumptuous vassal I full well do know 
Of hurricanes, of typhoons, thunderous 

15 



When went the great Armada, perilous 
To doom: For mediaeval legends blow 
Their golden clarions ! When, too, amain 

The Mayflow'rweathered the wroth waxing gale, 
Fostering sage Discov'ry: — When in mail 
The Rovers did infest the Spanish main: 
Of such thy archives speak. To whom, O Sea 
Yieldst thou supremacy? 



To One alone? each billow rolls reply? 

'Twere well indeed, that just so it should be: 
Astounding miracle, no doubt, we see 

With human orb, shall woo the Spirit-eye. 

Thus are all things in our philosophy 

Most marvellous. Great ocean in thy will 
Occult to man, hast thou not monsters still? 

Or caverns dark with living mystery? 

Or lethal uplands grim with sorcery 
Left for Futurity? 

VI 

To Contemplation, whosoever makes 

A sweet recourse, shall see most sovran sights, 
Among which, Ocean, thou dost know the rites 
Of heritage. No wizard ever takes 
A surer hold than Fancy: O'er the waves 

The Sea Gull wings, and near the jutty crag 
The Cormorant seeks rest. Hard on a snag 
A vessel founders. Wild the brine-foam laves 
The Light-house strand ! Neptune, I vaguely see 
Thy awful empery! 



16 



TO A BUTTERFLY 

Angelic spirit of the air, 

Winged of softest elegance, 
Dress the fairest of the fair, 

Wisely wouldst thou lead me hence? 
Were I but a Butterfly 
Fluttering as thou on high, 

To a zone of famed Delight 
I'd fly, I'd fly, I'd fly 

With unencumbered might. 

Nor think of things that fleeted were 

For such oft bear a secret pain, 
But o'er the Honeysuckle stir 

And sip the luscious nectar, fain 
Would I : And on the Eglantine 
In rosy June I'd banquet fine 

And think: — but dost thou think, small elf 
While quaffing dewy wine, 

Ever, ever of thyself? 

Art thou unconscious of the curl 

Of Loveliness? or Vanity? 
If so, ye differ from the girl 

Whom Beauty pays her limpid fee, 
For she grown flippant, haughty, vain, 
Will pose the merest doll to gain 

Our admiration: Ah forbid 
Should lurk thy wings one stain 

The pardlike fawn amid ! 

On the Clover-head ye light 

Like the presence of a gnome 
Seen of soul, unseen of sight: 

Ethereal being, where's thy home? 



Abidest thou in the demesne 
Wherein Titania is the queen? 

Pretty creature, breathe ye well 
If indeed it is the green 

Domicile of Beautiful? 

Soft, O soft as Zephyrs float, 

Or Moonbeams filter dark ozone, 
Or Sunsets linger, thou remote 

Dost bend thy pinions. Goest lone 
To where all flowers sweetly wear 
The blush of Goddess Flora? Where 

A sunny everlasting band 
Make merry mirth? O may I dare 

To seek that much sought land? 

Off with thee, my gaze grows dim ; 

Thy fairy form I watch until 
Away, away, all visions swim — 

Beyond the distance blues the hill ; 
I hear a brook, I faintly see 
A hazy prospect: Ecstacy 

Intoxicates! Where hast thou flown? 
Thou leavest me, unhappily 

Alone, alone, alone. 



TO WINTER 

Thou Storm King o' the mailed crystal sheen 
Whose icy breath doth kill the latest flowers; 

Thou son of Devastation often seen 

Gloating in triumph o'er Autumn's dying hours; 

Thou conqueror of Fall, and of her showers, 
Hast thou returned? — Shakspere's aid I urge, 

Beethoven's, or be mine the Rembrandt brush, 
18 



So, Winter, might I dare 
While trees of leaves be bare 
Inspiredly! to poetize, or flush 

In paint, or harmonize, a tuneful dirge. 

A dirge? Wherefore the dirge? If he be true 

The Artist, whatsoe'er his landskip bold, 
Pays thee his whitest tribute. Canst thou view 

Wingheeled Mercuries, despite of cold, 
Swarming thy rinks, without a thrill of old ? 

Or, diamonded the trees nod dozily? 
Aeolus walk his rounds, a ghost confessed? 
Waxwing with thee, and Jay, 
And Goldfinch thine alway? 
The glorious Sun-god bloom the soundless West 

And halo thy horizon rosily? 

Who has not heard, or cannot oft discern 

While nestling prone beside the cozy grate 
Thy spirit as the glowing embers burn? 

Or dwelling, when the frosty hour is late, 
In Meditation's realm feels not, with Fate, 

A Winter'd hist'ry? — Norsemen as of old, 
The hardy Viking o'er the stormswept sea; 
The Merry Saint of Noel; 
Explorers and arctic Pole; 
And peopled chapters, breathing mystery 

Reanimate his brain, and brave the cold? 

Sometimes while treading the snowcapped wood 

A wear\' traveler encounters thee; 
Thy white locks shiver'd o'er, and hoary hood ; 

Thy mantle flapping to the wind, which free, 
Doth play a hectic music: Blustery 

Girt with thy flacons, he beholds thee still 
Throned of ice, shaking a sceptry hand — 

19 



Where Snowflakes, Chickadee, 
Nuthatch, and Crossbills be: 
Surveying with hauteur thy frostchilled land 
Thou reignest monarch with a mighty will! 

ABSTRACT GRANDEUR 



Deity Peerless! lend my spirit flight: 

I grope bewilder'd in a strange domain 
Of dusk intense, yet softly see the light 

Maia hath seen: permit that my soul gain 
Those heights by Daylight dimmed, unknown of 
Night, 
Where Elfins dance, high on a cloudy plain ; 
Those vales lethean, where is ever known 
The Rose sky-blown. 

II 

Say I among your Myrtles free of care 
May silent pause on the Autumnal sun; 

Say I may watch the fantasies of Air ; 

May bask in Twilight, when the day is done: — 

Ye shades of abstract Grandeur everywhere 
Attest my fervor when in spirit gone, 

Shall sink my form exhausted, as it were, 
In th' sepulchre! 

Ill 

Impossible to gainsay is thy song. 

Who would find flaws in heavenly diamond 
glows ? 
Or in the flow'r a petal set in wrong! 
Or liken 'passioned poetry to prose? 
20 



There be such men, and to their race belong 
Not Art's apostles: Foreign these to those, 
Who cavil with untiring venom'd breath 
Till cold in death! 



IV 



I seem to stand upon the quiescent breeze ; 

A world of green salutes the steadfast gaze: 
Far to the East, a grove of stately trees: 

And to the North, a windmill turns in haze: 
The West commends a waste of broken leas: 

A rill, from South, on mossy pebbles plays; 
Ah, what, by Glory, were most justly famed 
Than Earth untamed? 



Ye all who ever inspiration gave 

To pen of poet, listen drowsily 
When troubled beings shall have found the grave: 

Sing, sing, sweet-sadly, singest lustily 
To Dryads, Faun : yea to some simple slave 

Of Verse whose flaming brain sought hungerly 
To give to language a seductive tune: 
Grant thou this boon! 



21 



SUMMER'S FAREWELL 

A Pindaric Ode 

O Dorian theme! Attuned Aeolian Lyre! 

Be mine your glory born of ages long! 
O Homer, Milton, Chaucer, pray inspire, 

And velvet-throated Keats, unite thy song! 
Arise thou Muse of Delphi's golden fire 
And glisten pinions; thrill myself entire; 
Permit no vagrant fancy flee 
Away from me, 
But O 
Attend desires, while August's breezes blow! 

August? Ah see, she tarries in the gold 
Of sylvan temples! Summer is asleep, 

And Autumn's vanguard lingers in the fold 
Of orient meadows, lavish harvests deep 

In zones suburban ; now the distant mold 

Of Phoebus, strokes the plains with rosy gold ; 
Purples the maze-dim margin'd hills; 
Silvers the rills! 
Ah who 

Would not seek Beauty in her rendezvous? 

Go, quit the sordid world and visit her, 

E'en tho' for a brief period it be. 
'Neath the blue clouds of Heaven O bestir 

Thyself with ease and lightness, buoyancy; 
Go walk with August, in the happy lair 
Where Asters, and belled meadow Lilies snare 

The heart, and crimson Poppies glow 
And Golden Rods debut, 
Proudly 
To wonted greenness, thither, thither flee. 

22 



Felicity, O canker not, nor cloy 

Wit^i fervid frenzy ! O I hear thy wings 

Melodious Muse! O happy Muse, my joy 
Like unto gurgling Heliconian Springs 
Gushes with soulfulness! Parnassus, high, 

I see your tenants Nine! O let me fly 
To thee; and mingle with the bards — 
A poet ; naught retards 
This thought 

Nor swooning soul, nor forehead flushed and hot ! 

August, I'll sing to thee another time; 

This first diversion wilt thou brook? I'll sing 
When youthfulness hath fled my latest rhyme. 

Sweetly with thee, the swallows are awing; 
The Redbreast carols: Sweet, O joyous time 
Hast thou no music? Aye thy sunny clime 

Hears hidden anthems, all thine own, 
In viewless voices blown 
Full soft 
From boughs remote, and idly echoing croft! 

August, alone with thee: am I ALONE? 

O langorous vision of a peaceful dream 
Who loves not Beauty, he had best atone 

To thee. The Pine-tree plaineth to the stream, 
And in the flow'r embroider'd wood is shown 
Wild Clematis, of cloddish souls unknown 

The light wind rustles weeds among, 
In ecstacies unsung; 
Now hath 
The drowsing spirit found its aftermath! 



23 



TO FLORA, GODDESS OF FLOWERS 

Flora! young goddess! Shade Aerial! 

Than whom no personage is lovelier 
In all the fabled Grecian progeny, 

Nor Daphne, Io, Ops, excepted are — 
Most exquisite, most fair, most beautiful, 
Observe how not ungallantly I kneel 

To Thee: 
Before thy shrine, or altar reared of flowers, 
To verse a victim, and to all thy powers 

A devotee: 
Indeed, thou lovely, lovely star of posies 
May I salute thy roses? 

May I salute thy lilies? May I dare? 

May I salute them? Yet, at least to me 
Not so sweet is your queen, June's fiancee, 

Not so sweet is your cloister's votary — 
The lily — as those wilding flowers rare: 
Spring's violet, summer's harebell, autumn's heir- 

The poppy — 
No ! for wilt thou, O Flora, not prefer 
Our simple flowers of nature; those that stir 

One's soul as sweetly 
As doth the bee, who, in sun-showers, chuckles 
Sipping lush honeysuckles? 

Atfican Saint: O spirit of sunrise — 

And of sundown — eternal fantasy! 
While clouds Aprilian, blue and sunny-beamed, 

Bloomed the mounds and tricklings meadowy; 
Ay, and from out a dove-cote, Drowsy Eyes 
Brooded aloft to Flora's floral skies 

It seemed 
To me a voice thus spake: "What's poetry? 

24 



The scent from thought's full flow'r,"and was it she 

(Or had I dreamed?) 
From whom a flower fell? O Star of Posies, 
1 shall salute thy roses! 

TO PHILOMELA 

(To whom I listened last night in a glorious 
dream, and who, I thought, upon my approach, 
winged away.) 

"Most musical, most melancholy bird." 

— Milton. 
I 

By virtue of my never having seen, 

Or heard thy presence deep in underwood, 

A hesitant hath been my mood: 

Yet foreignly in leafy solitude 
Thou singest sweet a song of sad serene 

For other folk whose hearts were fain to melt, 
Or fainer still, perchance, to float away 
With thee to regions far beyond our day 

Or night: — 
Assuredly to Paradicean height 

Unfamed, unfound, unfelt! 

II 

Sad bird, and do I listen now thy song? 

Thy song replete with mournful minstrelsy? 

In truth, methinks it well might be 

As some sweet Siren known of only thee 
Had sobbed her gentle self the Sky along, 

And sighed asleep amidst most fragrant flowers, 
Her pillow but a Star, her gown Eve's shroud, 

25 



Her couch the Moon, her curtains naught save 
Cloud : — 

Ah! when 
Soft sleep had made a comma, was it then 
Exertest thou thy powers? 

Ill 

I venture to assert 'twere even thus, 

But be this as it may, I follow thee 

Wherever I am bade, Birdie — 

Far in the forest to that selfsame tree 
Whence issues such a strain circumfluous 

The very air seems now to undulate; 
Delicious eloquence great glooms rehearse; 
Nocturnal shadows sweep our universe: 

'Tis meet 
Abroad I hearken to my heart's each beat 

While pulsing echoes wait. 

IV 

Sad, sweetly sad of singers, Philomel, 

Or Nightingale which name may suit thee best, 

Deeply of Dusking guessed 

I find thy haunt ; above with beauty dressed 
Thick leafiness would fresco Heaven well : 

Brain-gone in Delphic glory have I trod 
Through plashy meads and freshest flowers sweet 
To pause beside thy sylvan low retreat: 

Vain lot! 
Who comes too close avails himself of what 

I ask myself aloud ? 



26 



TO AMERICA 

"O Union strong and great!" 

Longfellow. 

I 

When soul of son and sire with transport welled 
A distant date beholding welcome soil 

Amidst the waste of waters, nor rebelled 
But docile grew the mutineers whose toil, 

Had thus attained the supreme result; 

When these rude men, knave, ruffian and dolt 

Loosed from dungeons dire by Isabelle, 

Found with the good Columbus golden ground 
By savage trod, by tent and wigwam crowned 

What pen may tell 
The joy, the exultation? — the profound 

Significance which History's page befell? 



II 



Columbia, with Phcenix-wings arose 

Unto a nation's stature. Let a king, 
That moth of Fame, be named among her foes 

She fears no dissolution. Freemen sing 
The praise of him whose patriotic aid 
Coupled with that of France substantial made 

Tri-colored liberty. Rebellious rolls 
A tide, henceforth, to rend the State; surely 
Such strife were vain : Celestial Liberty 

Born of red gules: 
Whose face is fair; whose heart is gray; 

Protect my native land: her rights: her rules! 



27 



Ill 

America, what lovelier land than thine? 

From Northern bounds, known of the midnight- 
sun 
To Southern scenes where luscious fruits design 

A California field or Floridan; 
From the Atlantic to Pacific strand 
What towns, what streams, what farms on either 
hand ? — 
Moreover haloed by the azure veil 
Of her whose statue, pray God, shall for aye 
On Bedloe Isle a flaming torch display 

While Braves prevail; 
While tyrants groan ; while traitors wince full wry ; 
And while the Eagles perch our standards hale ! 



TO A REDBREAST 



Thou usher of the vernal season, hear ! 

Thou whose voice shrilly greets this lovely Morn 
Which as a Rose hath oped of crimson cheer 

To in sheer fullness rest maturedly born ; 
What with thine easy treble caroling 

And that of the wild choralists ye lead 
On yonder Maple, singing songs for Spring 

Boasting the warmth, the fervor incident 
To Beauty where in seed she dormant lies : 

Thou sylvan Oread, what with spring's consent 
(Who, through my window, casts her sunny eyes) 

And every soothing sound my ear must need 
Give audience: small wonder if quite dumb 

28 



Of thee I ask 
Most pleasant task; 
An omen this of gentle days to come? 

II 

Where are thy haunts? The boughs have new leaves 
not; 
Early her premier for the Year it is 
To don of gowns perennial : yet sweet lot 

Is mine to wander thither where wings this 
Red-bosomed herald, be the season what 
It might provided winter 'cepted be: 
Abroad ! Abroad ! ere Nature shall allot 

With wilding flow'rs the wood, have hurried ye, 
The better to exult when is become 

Soft green the hills, and mossed the rill's cool 
edge; 
When balmy breezes waft the Bumble's hum 

From some fresh meadow, or lone marshy hedge, 
Or across clover lanes full odorous ; 
And choke-cherries 
Are on the trees; 
What are ye, all the while, but — glorious? 

Ill 

Such be thy mood dear Optimist, alway, 

Even as Autumn come, yet be thou so: 
Why otherwise of spirit? who will say? 

Awing with thee no bounds my fancies know: 
Away, nor linger; whither? hastening 

While tenderly live gales do sleep; or gush 
Through vines whose grapes in ripest clusters cling; 

To sandbars river-ward, and underbrush ; 
Thence to the trees ; and now when fades the day 
29 



Like to a Red Rose, pigeon crofts remote 
Answer the garden-sparrows; blissfully 

House wrens, and martins, with the lowing cote, 
Swell the full choir; and Robin's vocal strain 
Time and again 
Startles me, when 
A dreamy drowsiness embalms the brain! 

ON A FADING WILD ROSE 

Ah could this speak 
What might its rose-mouth tell? 
This rural Hummer's Love, whose sweets to seek 
Maidens red-lipped, svelt and young and gay 

May of a Summer day 
Be seen traversing woodlands prodigal. 

I know not whence 
Thou comest, Flow'r, nor why; 
Nor wherefore thy heart's breath, this sweet incense 
Converts the air: My ignorance forgive, 

I only know I live 
And wakeful watch Life's anguish ere I die! 

Oh latter word 
How magical thou art! 
Oft would I leave, of Humankind unheard, 
Oblivious of all save One whose ear 

Hears fall the unseen tear — 
(And mutely fade as thou, and so depart) 

This hapless realm 
Of Pain, of Care, of Teen, 
Where gaunt Grief seeks the while to overwhelm 
The heart! Where Joys amid dull Sorrows grope 

Were there no better hope: 
Hut ah, away sick thoughts; why intervene? 

3Q 



A fading Rose! 
How irreparable 
Its petals fall ! Where now Apollo's pose 
Of gold ? Where now the blushful smiles that were 

Wont to soft eyes ensnare? 
What earthly Grandeur is imperishable? 

Sweet flow'r how oft 
Thy kindred symbol's Love; 
A lord his fiancee hath breathed soft: 
"Dearest, these roses do our nuptials bless," 

While in Love's loneliness 
Another sees a Rose wilt, shorn thereof ! 

Perhaps of thine 
Kings decked their palaces 
Full lovely as the fabled Delphic shrine 
In erewhile ages, when the Oracle 

Was much besought: withal 
As grand as Grecian glory in surmise. 

The poet deems 
Thyself his mace superne; 
Why not? when thro' those verdurous day-dreams 
Of visions indescribable his brain 

With ecstacy will gain 
Glimpses of thee at every happy turn? 

The Queen of blooms 
Art thou in Beauty's bower; 
Nor light this lovely title, when uplooms 
In mental haunts the Pink, and Posies pied: 

The Violet — Spring's pride, 
And dark-cheeked Pansies, vying all for power. 



31 



Incredible 
Is sadness, when it swims 
Unsought into the channels of our will — 
As bleeding beauty ! Like a man in throes 

Even the withered Rose 
Outbreathes its spirit as the color dims! 

Quite limp and dead 
My fingers gently hold 
A red Wild Rose: O whither, whither fled 
The odorous breath? Perhaps erelong 

Beauty with darkling tongue 
May ask : Where is the child I kissed of old ? 

Thy breath is gone 
Wherewith life is sustained; 
No more, alas, these futile features wan 
Shall show their beauty to the dews of Morn! 

Nor more wilt thou adorn 
Fair Flora's fane: with Twilight thou hast waned! 

TO A PROUD BELLE 

Ere yet proud Beauty, thou wert made 
Recipient of gifts which fade 

Perhaps an ugly child 
Wert thou. Perhaps Milady Vain 
The Destinies were best not deign 

To humor one — beguiled. 

O wherefore raise so haughtily 

The while you heave a languorous sigh 

Those dark and lustrous eyes 
That softer be and lovelier 
Than Butterfly's most downy fur 

Unseen save of surmise? 
32 



Why ape cold Winter's frozen heart 
Whilst thine, devoid of his fine art 

Perforce can never melt? 
Retrace, who can, the steps of Pride 
Or Vanity, when at Truth's side 

Time's wizened leers are felt? 

Divest thyself of sallow Pride; 
Permit thy beauty's texture bide 

Untrammell'd, free, unseared ; 
Nor let false-masked Presumption haunt, 
Nor jeopardize, by idle flaunt, 

Thy comely self endeared. 



TO SOMBRE BEAUTY 

"Mourning in thy robe of pride, 
Desolation deified." 

— Shelley. 



Which is more beautiful ; the silver Morn 

Holding aloft her dewy cup of gold, 
Ablution proffering to buds new-born — 

The while a million opals glister cold 
On ferns, on grasses, and on flowers, sworn 

True courtiers to Beauty? or sad Night 
Aloof in ebon splendour, so forlorn, 

So desolate, that Moon and Stars delight 
In daylight memories rather than adorn 

Her courts and galleries; canst thou infer 
Which is the lovelier? 



33 



II 

Depends it on the individual; 

There be some folks who relish empty bliss ; 
More to whose spirits Melody would pall; 

Others who shudder at the youthful kiss; 
Some few exist, whose voices Oracle 

Would have in verse all Pleasure, sans the Pain, 
Which same, half-bodied, do not see withal 

That wedded are the children, Bliss and Bane, 
Yet unto Selfishness, do these give all 

And mock the chronicler who dares devote 
A space such to denote. 

Ill 

Go you, whatever be your temperament 

Into the bow'r of Beauty. Pluck the Rose 
And watch it wilt, while merry is your bent ; 

Or feast upon the sweet unconscious pose 
Of giggling girlhood; or in joyance vent 

Your spite full on a Rainbow's gorgeous hues; 
Or, none appealing, under Even's tent 

Adore the grace divine when stars suffuse 
A river black with cold aggrandizement: 

Of sombre Beauty all; of Light and Love 
The Loveliness thereof. 



34 



TO HOPE 



A gentler word than gentle, ah by far, 

A softer word than soft I would employ; 
A sweeter word than sweet, dearer than dear, 

Were best to welcome thee, my pride and joy — 
Thee lovely seraph, thee of lucent eyes, 
Bright vestal virgin, sister from the skies, 

Frail, but yet how stout, 

Born of Despair and Doubt! 

II 

Out of the cavern of intensest gloom 

Thy beauteous presence hath regaled my sense; 
Sweet as the Rose's undefiled perfume, 

Art thou, or Tyrian shades of early Morn, 
Fair as a blissful moment languorous, 
Quiet as turtles snug in muddy moss, 

Or doves on gabled eaves, 

Or silk-worms munching leaves. 



Ill 



Oblivious grow we to all save zest; 

Naught but the halo of pervading light 
Round the high summits of a bleak unrest 

Hovers like Fairies on a Moonlit night, 
Whose little wings the glowing gloom enhance, 
Whose starry feet upon the heavens dance:- — 

To prove our souls unwon 

It were, I fear, ill done. 



35 



IV 

Pegasus, think not I enow am vain 

To seek to trespass Phoebus' hierarchy ; 
His sacred temple blushless to profane; — 

To scorn Euterpe or Terpsichore: 
No; by the pleasure Momus did invent, 
I swear my verse at least is reverent 

And tho' it weak may grope 

Leans on thy anchor, Hope! 



Lonely a time with Mid-eve anguishing 

Conscious I grew of other company 
I gazed around the silence lingering, 

No voice, no word, no marvel haunted me 
But two warm eyes were peering from the deep 
Invulnerable dark where Hope doth sleep: 

I straight made scrutiny 

And surely it was she! 

VI 

She, Hope! this soothing, most bewitching Fairy, 

This comforter to all humanity, 
Her purest glance was one of gladness very, 

From her tiara drooped a Peony, 
A brave Rose fell, merry of withering, 
A violet betokened vernal Spring; 

Of Grief she was half-won 

But Heartache knew she none. 



36 



SONNETS 

AFTER RE-READING ROSTAND'S 
CYRANO DE BERGERAC 

Seldom a golden book I lay aside 

Without a darling spright forevermore 
About my brain breathes legendary lore 

And love for them that be Apollo's pride; 

Many a day, or good or ill betide, 
This sometime soul-Elysian, known of yore 
As Psyche and whom Grecia's Gods adore, 

Hath sought her wings superne: alas and sighed: 

Like Bergerac, the boldest of the bold, 

She sighs; like him, who, true to the Rostand 
strain, 

High on the Gascon ramparts, sighed of old, 

Strong as the rock Gibraltar: With might and 
main 

Braved he the Storm, nor caught his death of coldj 
Alone with God prone on the Arras plain. 



37 



POETRY 

'Tis the scentless perfume of the Flower of Thought: 
The Poppies rare that glow in sunset skies — 
The Bluebells fair that grow in girlish eyes — 

And pink Carnations, as if fairy wrought, 

Tinting some dimpled cheeks — all these are fraught 
With that soul-essence — Poetry; it lies 
Dormant in dusk — a nightshade; dawn — sunrise; 

In meltful music, grand sweets, it hath brought. 

If Poetry possess such subtle power 

In eyes, in cheeks — yea ! and in loving voices, 

In Morphean sleep, in Arcadean bower, 
What man is that whose spirit nor rejoices 
Nor takes in Faydom blissful, elfin choices? 

For him the scent is lost from Thought's full- 
flower. 



AH! DEAREST LOVE, DID I LAY COLD 
IN DEATH 

Ah ! Dearest Love, did I lay cold in death 
The flow'rs about my casket grave and grim 
Say, would you — could you — drop a tear for him 

Who loved you with his latest every breath? 

There is a dawn tho' daylight withereth. 
There is a sleep unguessed of by the dim, 
Shadowy speculation: there's a trim — 

Yes, — and a sable beauty — deathless Death. 

Ah! would you, darling! drop a heartfelt tear 
If, thro' the fresh and wreathy garlands lain 

Lovingly on my silent, bodeful bier 

There came the thought of days nor Joy nor Pain 

Nor Pity could restore? That all held dear 
Might this hand, nerveless, never greet again! 

38 



FORT SNELLING 

This site speaks volumes to the historied ! 
Of late when I upon its bridge was come 
That thought possessed me, as a soldier glum 

And battle-scarred I passed, unlaurelled. 

The scenery seemed asleep as tho' a dream 
Of mingled glory and fierce savagery 
Haunted the fort, the ground, the every tree; 

Even the clouds looked somberly agleam. 

Distinctly then I heard a bugle blare 
A martial medley of the long ago; 
Of ensigns ta'en in war — of bloody woe — 

Heart-break and fray — and above all an air 
Of rose-wreathes wilting on a hero's heart: 
Alas, when grandeur is of gloom a part! 



OUT BEYOND CONCORDIA COLLEGE, 
ST. PAUL 

Many the wild birds I this day have heard 
Beyond Concordia's campus and her green 
And many a living color have I seen 

Ere sang the Thrush, brown hermit, undeterred: 

The Catbird everything hath done but purred, 
The Pewee, constant to her sorrows keen 
Complains ; — of suns that bloom the blue serene 

The Oriole tells ; and Wrens the leaves have stirred : 

Sweet is the music of earth's poetry. 

Listen, ye worldlings, to the meadowlark 

And to the Grosbeak whistling merrily 

And to the gold-finch in the wildwood-park : 

Hear ye the burthen of the mystery? — 
Listen a pretty day from dawn till dark. 

39 



TO A WOOD THRUSH 

Scarce breathing have I walked the woodland wild 
This sacred Sabbath-day since Vesper-bell, 
And now, as daylight darkles, thou dost well 

To flute for him who loves thee — Dryad-child: 

Here from the wide world happily exiled 
Soothed I hear him to the wood-nymphs tell 
His pearliest beads of Nature, and of hell 

No word — but Heaven to Heaven is reconciled: 

O Wood-Thrush, bard of all the answering 
Thrushes 
Is thine an echo from the Hebrides? 

The Cranesbill — Robin's Plantain — and the rushes 
Through which I trod — the God — and every 
breeze 

That, with the sun, robs scent from wild-rose bushes 
Deliciously must hear thee in the trees! 



IN A NEIGHBOR'S GARDEN 

Sweet Peas all winged like departing souls; 

Pansies that flirt with Phoebus in the shade, — 

Blonde and brunette ; and as of earth afraid 
Nasturtiums ever seeking higher goals; 
Forget-me-nots, whose very name condoles 

Our stern bereavements; Mignonette as staid 

As scented nun, and roses for your maid ; 
These I do love, and these my love extols; 
But more I love the darling wilding flower, 

The Crocus, sweet misnomer, skyey-hued, 
And every spirit of the warm sun-shower 

All teary-eyed this heart of mine hath viewed ; 
The Violet, the Cowslip, — Virgin's Bower, 

The Primrose of the wayside solitude. 



AT MINNEHAHA FALLS, MINNEAPOLIS 

Hearken! thou wild and watery magnitude! 

Thou, in whose presence Nature half-forlorn, 

Half-listless, listens unto Triton's horn 
Wound from that god's verisimilitude; 
Hearken! thou apcr of old Ocean's mood — 

Thou parked Arethusa! — many a morn 

And many a moon, contemplative, footworn, 
Have I not shared thy woodland solitude? 
Hearken! There's thunder where no lightnings 
break — 

A rainbow where 'tis cloudless: such is Beauty — 
Indeed her very texture. For her sake 

Who goes abroad (and this is mortal duty) 
At such a time, his cognizance shall take 

Of Neptune's foamy phantom fresh from the sea! 

CANDLEMAS 

That beast prophetic of this many a year, 

The Groundhog, sees his shadow and departs 
For thrice a fortnight ere my Queen of Hearts 

All pied with mickle Violets is near; 

Flow'r-breath'd, bird-voiced, star-eyed, the beau- 
teous dear 
Pearls the green April moon ; such be her arts 
That her I'll love till struck by Pluto's darts 

Sinks my cold clay into Death's cavern drear: 

Times strange, O Candlemas, with friend and foe 
Have wrought alike — (sweetheart and lovesick 
thrall, 

Living and lost) — since first on Winter's snow 
Thy spirit sought his shadow, yet, for all, 

Other than thine no Mary shalt thou know 
Whose purification makes a festival. 

41 



AT THE INDIAN MOUNDS, ST. PAUL 

Nature is here a sculptor: — wise — discreet — 

Her plastic art seems much in evidence; 

A breathing spot these Indian mounds immense 
Where one may give one's eyes a very treat. 
Let those oppressed or with brain awhirl 

Here bend their footsteps of a day and greet 
This sculptor god: appeased shall they be. 
Whose handiwork? — ye ask; — what mystery! 

A pre-historic ghost with gnomy feet 
Stalks here about ; and where is hewn from pearl 

Huge clouds: from gold and floral ivory 
The skyey wainscot: from stars the river clear: 

The boding Presence looks as though to say: 
Pygmalion a rival hast thou here! 



ON A TRAIN EXCURSION TO FOREST 
LAKE 

Poppies as martial as the Red Cockade; 

Larkspur, to whom no Lark at Heaven's height 

Sings; Dog-fennel daisies, that by night 
Do droop their languid ears ; in sun and shade 
Bluebells warm winds have rung; from angry spade 

Cockles in hiding; Marguerites more white 

Than unseen day stars; such as these delight 
Not every man who whirls the rumbling grade: 
But I, Great God, a child that manhood mars 

Have but to gaze to be ecstatified; 
To think of wildflowers even by the cars 

Disclosed, fills me with as glorious pride 
As when, in Forest Lake, I once descried, 

Exalt, two lovers' souls against the stars. 



42 



WRITTEN ON TOP OF CHUCKANUT 

I stood with Silence one amid the stars; 

Happy the eve and Vesper, wide-awake — 

Bright darling — for eternally she'd shake 
Her little silvery wings across the bars 
Of Ocean's stilly sunset warmly golden — 

Lord ! — as beyond the heavens she would fly 

To fathom th' mystery: I swear that I 
By Heaven! to dearer scene was ne'er beholden; 
The orient clouds pre-sentinelling the sun — 

The trumpet honey-bloom fain to bequeathe 
Her sweets to the zealous bee; fagged out with fun 

A butterfly listening to Silence breathe: 
These, these for the nonce indulged me; these would 
wreathe 

My spirit wings, so might we both be one! 



INDEPENDENCE DAY 

Great is our country, great her valorous sires, 
Who formerly on many a sturdy field 
Admonished the haughty Briton ; made him yield 
Who crowned would quench the patriotic fires — 
Yet Freedom lives eternal, godlike child ! 
Asleep betimes she ever will awaken 
And from her fiery Phoenix-wings is shaken 

Thenceforth of bloody tears an anthem wild: — 

All hail America, my native land! 

Never I heard thy diviner spirit sigh 
At Valley Forge — at Concord — at dismanned 
Old Sumpter — No, or on the Fourth o' July 

Without, by Heaven's stars, on every hand 

All-glorious Liberty, I felt thee nigh! 



43 



AT BELLINGHAM BEACH 

Neptunus stirs about this soundless shore 

Unceasingly, and of the briny deep 

He speaks, and of the salt-sea dogs asleep 
Distant not many leagues that oft do roar; 
His is a yarn heard now and heretofore 

By stars, that fallen from sometime skyey seas 

Hold to these rocks, inconstant Pleiades — 
Boon-friends of shells and other wonders more: 
Hark ye! who ever love the billowy main! 

And ye who gasp at such immensity 
Spell-bound ! At low tide come ye, drowsed of brain, 

When fishers fly and gulls, and silently 
The songsters rest — then see ye Triton's reign, 

And hear of Silence her lost minstrelsy! 



I KNOW A HILL 

I know a hill whereon — felicity! — 

Strawberries grow, and where wild blackberries 

Hide amongst stumps as tho' pursued by fairies 
Perverse, whose tinkling pails sound humanly. 
With what exultant joy the honey bee 

Stirs hereabouts and on the foxglove tarries 

A lushy while, or how earth's spirit marries 
Sweet heaven's own, to tell 'tis far from me. 
O what a glory hath this earth of ours 

For him who fares lighthearted o'er the hills. 
Daisies and lillies, hold him, — Indian-flowers 

And Columbines; for him each blossom thrills 
With silent love, and he so feels these powers 

That soon the poet's light his utter being fills! 



44 



LIFE'S TIDE HATH BEEN AT EBB FULL 
MANY A YEAR 

Life's tide hath been at ebb full many a year — 
A score and four — since first these eyes of mine 
Gazed on Nature and her heart divine 

With scarce a feeling other than a tear. 

Two dozen Aprils have rained sweet Mayflowers; 
Two dozen Junes have lain on darling roses 
Like Angel's tears; millions of Autumn posies 

Have filled the clouds even in wintry hours; 

Ay — and since Nature is at one with life 
And I a part of Jove's eternal dreaming 

Why, Heavens! I'll haste me like that hummer rife 
With love of flowers that scarletly are gleaming; 

I'll haste, like him, afar from human strife: 
Like him I'll die and learn that life is seeming. 



IN THE CASCADES; TRIPLE-PEAKED 
INDEX 

Awed at thyself thou stand'st majestical! 

Serenity and stars abide thy zone, 

LIFE, DEATH, OBLIVION: thou art alone 
Beneath Jove's heavenly blue ethereal, 
The soul of three sublimities. Where fall 

Huge avalanches, and whither tree-nymphs moan 

Because Medusa changed thee to stone, 
There sittest thou, a Titan yet in thrall: 
Ye sagebrush wilds, ye minarets, ye towers, 

Ye mountainous haunts where beasts ferocious 
be- 
Hard fastnesses — ye blue and red-souled flowers, 

And thou O Earth ! when we no longer see 
Still shalt thou live, a heritage — great powers — 

To Man, an emblem of Eternity! 

45 



IN THE ROCKIES; LAKE MAC DONALD 

Where Silence sat listening to the Moon 

Aweary of Pan, and where the Trinity 

Bid Avalanche Basin see divinity 
There did I wish me late — thrice beauteous boon! 
Eve's lonesome child, singing a soundless tune, 

Venus, gave Heaven her virginity 

Whereat MacDonald's green vicinity 
Showed watery peaks their snowy heads in June: 
Henceforth the Rocky Mountains to appall 

Meseems is thy wet function ; and when years 
Like ghosts haunt Belton woods, and flowers recall 

Empyreal flakes, MacDonald! it appears 
As if for Man's transgressions, great and small, 

Our heavenly Father drops celestial tears. 



THE CANADIAN ROCKIES AND 
SELKIRKS 

The cloudy peaks, the roaring wild cascades, 
The dizzy glaciers, and the still ravines, 
The canyons; cirques; the gorges; — Alpine scenes 

Rock-bound, that gaze at Winter; piney glades 

Of perilous seeming; chasms in whose shades 
Swoop vapory Eagles; cataracts, — glens, — greens 
Fir-topped, and foot-hills stealing Skyey sheens: 

What power, O Nature, all these powers pervades? 

Thou answerest not, and yet thy voice is loud ! 
Ye rainbows round the celestial mountain-storm, 

Ye clouds that make for Earth's hot sun a shroud, 
Ye lightnings the thundery Heavens bid perform, 
Ye fair frost flowers o'er whom the wild bees 
swarm, 

To ye speaks Silence, Silence the God avowed! 



411 



ON LOVE 

As one who on the Moon too long has gazed 

Sees gossamer glooms encircling burning beams, 

My sight deceptive has my brain amazed, 

Discerning faces in the gilded gleams 

Of various design : a lovely Queen 

Mature in grace from Beauty's pure demesne, 

With hair like Dusk, complexion like the Morn, 

Abides in this, my heart of applique, 

Sweeter than Ruth amid the orient corn, 

Fairer than Flora on her festal day, 

She smiles upon my thrills, as on a Morn 

I trembled, flushing faint with Love's high bliss 

Enraptured at the chimera of a kiss, — 

Before the birth of that fell Titan, Scorn! 



SUMMER OF AUTUMN 

Fair is the feel of Summer — fadeless too ! 

Tho' the hard storm her early life enshrouds 
Yet beauteous flowers fill stern thunderclouds, 

And perilous lightnings purify anew 

That air which Flora breathes as humans do, 

Breathes, where upon her wild and pretty posies 
Fatigued she rests, and hears the while she dozes 

A Hopper winging to her hills of blue: 

Of thee, h? prophecies, thou sweet first born 
Of thee, like Dandelion, come to earth 

Immaculate. Oh, many's the eve forlorn 
After the Cricket in his woody berth 

Had sung the birds asleep — that, tho' forsworn, 
I yet have breathed a prayer, and heard of Song 
no dearth. 



47 



A THANKSGIVING PRAYER 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us once again 
Lest we forget the import of this day: 
Let not a personal Ego hold at bay 
Such prayers as bowed the landed Mayflower-men; 
Let not hard Greed hot from his wolfish den 
Plunder our poor, nor yet let Bigots slay 
Defenceless Humankind ; this, Lord, we pray 
On bended knees we folk American : 
Thankful this day are we for festive hours; 
Thankful are we that Patriots swell our ken; 
Thankful, moreover, that among the Pow'rs 
We stand who flourish neither sword nor pen ; 
But thankful most are we, Lord God, that ours 
Is of the common Heritage. Amen. 

CHRISTMAS 

White Blashfield angels ringing Christmas bells; 
The Christ from out this starriest of morns 
Risen triumphant high above our thorns, 

Blue-eyed, of human savors, heavenly spells; 

A bearded stranger down his moony dells 
Urging familiar reindeer; drums and horns 
Proclaiming Man's rebirth: — all this adorns 

That sense, Friends mine, wherein our Heaven 
dwells! 

Ring Blashfield bells, and sing thou Angels dumb! 
If I mistake not, yonder frosty moon 

Bears in her beams the spirit o' Kingdom-Come 
Who stays for music — a celestial tune, 
Nor know I if he be God's son — kind boon — 

Or Nicholas, dearest saint of Fairydom ! 



48 



NEW YEAR'S 

Youth's Jack o' Lantern through my window looks 

And almost I could think it Hallowe'en, 

Except that out of doors no grass is green, 
Nor lurking mischievous our prankish spooks; 
Low is my hearthstone and my spirit brooks 

No fellowship save that which stirs unseen; 

And when of sleighbells and night's starred se- 
rene 
The frozen silence sings, I shut my books; 
A happy New Year thou who back art bringing 

Our Family Circle; while thou ringest on 
I yet hear sister voices round me singing 

Such carols as illume white eves agone, 
And friends I hear, and thou above me winging 

O Mother Aline whose Day is still my Dawn! 

ON THE MARCH WINDS 

They voice Apollo's sweetest sentiments 
Who, reinforced thus sucks dry the pool 
Resultant from a thawing ice-mesh cool 

And snowy moisture; then they hasten hence 

So mirthfully, we of their mood partake, 
Over the meadow, hill and melting brook ; 
So very gentle that, except we look, 

Never ourselves might to their mission wake ; 

So very tender that indeed until 

Our eyes, half-languid on a day behold 

Spring wide-awake upon a Marigold 

We almost doubt; yet hark, the whippoorwill, 
To sing her even song she doth empower — 
As balmy as the breathing of a flower. 



49 



CHRISTMAS EVE 

The saints are stirring; it is Christmas eve! 

Listen! Ye household gods, can ye not hear 

Above the frosty sleighbells ever dear 
A starry anthem? and, by heaven's leave, 
Old granny's voice ? That ye may well deceive 

Suspicious youth she'll aid you, never fear, 

In your conspiracy! It doth appear 
She tells of Santa! Ay, and all believe! 

A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year 

Ye grey haired boys and girls and ye who mingle 
With jocund musings ever tenderer: 

O like that child who hears, with veins a-tingle, 
Boreas' chant of reindeer from afar, 

So do I feel, and all the world's a-jingle! 



WINTER AND POETRY 

Even Winter hath his poetry — the snow. 

For crystals are, as fair as is the thought 

That freights a day-dream when a chimney 
drought, 
All frozenly, doth hark to Aquilo; 
While blue-eyed cinders, winking and aglow 

Spirit one whither wonders have been wrought 

Ho! what's diviner than to live unsought, 
Tales legendary, extant and ago? 

Surely is snow not Winter's poetry? 
Indeed lest it should fade at dead of night — ah! 

Jack Frost (sly elf!) is breathing roguishly 
Ghost stories to the storm sash ever brighter; 

So when we wake it seems that fearfully 
The stars had dropped their younglings never whit- 
er! 



50 



ON THE ETERNAL THEME 

Shrouded in mystery is Earth, Sea, Sky, 

The Elements, and else all things beside, 
And we are Mystics, even thou and I, 

WHAT, WHEN, and WHERE to know are 
we denied. 
Existence and Eternity, how strange 

Friends that ye are ye should be foes at heart ! 
One Cloudy Phantom do we worship all — 

A trinity of Truth, of Love, of Art; 
Yet never doubt, O Man, though creeds may change 
Divinity's mild visage till it pall 

With hateful thoughts of Torment, Fire, and 
Hell:— 
Beauty is but a Seed: thy self extol: 

A haven is where Purity must dwell 
For Flesh is but the death-mask of the SOUL. 



EARLY AUTUMN 

Full dearly do I love to gad a day 

To the Queen's taste in Autumn, redly golden ; 

Early, if so it please thee, friend, that olden 
Ideas sad from Life's far — far-away, 
May take fresh heart in stacks of new-mown hay ; 

A still small voice (it is the Cricket's) swelling 

Every now and then the breeze, is telling 
What harvest fields apprise a marveling Sun ; 
The little freshes where wee minnows play, — 

Sheep-sorrel patches, — bullfrogs full of fun 

Ducking in croaking puddles: — these, I say, 
These ! shall indulge us to our heart's content 
Until we quite forget through blandishment, 

The Locust, bent on mischievous foray! 

51 



NATURE 

Dame Nature hath her poetry — the flowers, 
Yet never hot house children, lily and Rose — 
Tho' these be beautiful — but rather those 

Wild unseen spirits of our sunny showers: 

Where whistle Meadowlarks, the larkspur flowers, 
Cranesbill beneath the Thrush's branches grows, 
Where Kingbirds scatter Bees isWildbrier-rose, — 

And red-winged Blackbirds stir the Blueflag bow- 
ers; 

Whoso loves Nature let him straightway fare 
To the wildwoods when the Midsummer Bee 

Sucks honeyed Trumpet-blooms; what time the air 
Sun-scented, dreams of Autumn: there shall he 

Indulge his spirit, feeling unaware 

That wilding flowers are Nature's poetry. 

SEEN AT THE TIVOLI AFTER THE ST. 
PAUL TORNADO 

I saw two ruins at the Tivoli — 

Immaculate and mortal: one, the first 

Was that which like a loathsome spectre burst 

From out the jumbled wreck: the next was she 

Whom I had known in Childhood's Arcady 
But scarce might recognize since vice accurst 
Had painted both her cheeks: — How Demon! 
durst 

Thou paint blood-red the cheeks of Chastity? 

I saw two ruins — Death ! and Souls awry : 

Bridge square lay drunken marveling at the 
moon — 

Darkly old Mississippi aped the sky 

Whiles from a concert hall a voice eftsoon 

Squalled of brighter days — to me that tune 
Savored, ye Gods, of Beauty dead, yet nigh! 
52 



O HOW I GLORY IN AUTUMNAL DAYS 

O how I glory in Autumnal days 

Autumnal dawns and red autumnal Eves! 

For Indian Summer stalks about the sheaves 
And counts her wild grapes thro' frosty haze; 
For in her sunburnt wreath there rests always 

Summer's sweet flowers, tho faded; ay and leaves 

At whose decease the very sky bereaves 
And droppeth tears, tears for departed Mays; 
O what a glory is in God's creation: — 

Life, Love and Loveliness, that trinity 
Engendered of the spirit bears relation 

Not merely to one dear Divinity 
Beyond the stars, but rather to our Nation 

And to all the world it holds affinity. 



SEASONS OF DAY 

DAWN 

Aurora, it is thine this hour of calm ! 

This hour beloved of the earliest muse. 
The morning star hath sung his fays a psalm ; 

And flowers find nectar in ethereal dews; 
Invisible beings shift celestial scenes; 

Eastwards the truant moon stares all aghast 
Whereto none else than star-eyed Beauty weans 

Phcebus from Dawn as Phosphor clears the vast. 
Blessed Aurora to thy joys belong 

Glory and Slumber and awaking Dreams; 
For thee the Cock crows loud his matin-song, 

As if himself thine own alarm he deems; 
For thee the Chuck- Will's Widow all night long 

Whistles and searches over moon-moth streams. 

53 



NOON 

Illumined Ariel of each predestined day 

Impassioned I have worshipped at thy shrine 

And in thy labyrinth have loved to stray 

Absorbed, rapt, be-dreamed, entirely thine — 

Oblivious to all save this, thine hour, 

That wet-browed Labor claims refreshfully, 

Wherever kettle sings and falls a shower 

Of blessings from the Household Gods that be: 

Be mine thy friendship, horny handed noon 
Since thou the friend of Ariel must be ; 

Beside my festive board I bid thee croon 
Jingles that touch the heart, and mightily, 

That mock the worldly miser's sordid goal 

Poor in the utter poverty of soul! 

SUNSET-DUSK 

As a Fire-Worshipper I stand and chant 

Thy benediction divine Eventide! 
The sun descending, like a martyr'd saint, 

In the West blazing regions ; Argus-eyed 
The stilly stars that fill Heaven's holy Grail ; 

The lights and shadows playing on the sward 
Whene'er the moon his cloudy head doth vail — 

And O the thrill of voices forestward! 
The sibilant twitterings of drowsy dells; 

The Nightingale whose foreign eloquence 
Bids our weird owl hoot not of haunted hells; 

These things speak more than aught of earthly 
sense ; — 
These speak the Gods and such immortal strains 

As once Endymion heard on Latmos plains. 



54 



WHAT A SEA SHELL SAYS 

Nor sun, nor moon, but man, hath stayed my reign 

In solitudes where awful Secrecy 

Holds state; where monsters subterranean 

Run riot. Of unrecked lineage 

I boast. Benighted cells profoundly hush 

Immure me well withal. Into mine ear 

Hath Neptune breathed his hollow precepts much; 

Nor do I lack for Beauty: no, not I: — 

The Dolphin round a coral cathedral swims 

With zest and zeal ; and unmolested lie 

Numberless jewels, that unstinted wealth, 

Cargoed and argosied, which went to wreck; 

And happy to record, sea-weed enwreathed 

Doth old Oceanus a crown provide. 



YANKTON, MY BIRTHPLACE. 

Yankton, My birthplace — well I love her streets, 
Her stores, her markets, ay, her very houses — 
On her, though far away, the memory browses 
When backward Time recognizance entreats ; 
The serious bee that sucks delicious sweets 
Hid in the perfume of the wildbrier-roses, 
Sucks not more Summer than in him reposes 
Whose heart with thine inseparably beats: 
For Yankton-on-the-Missouri, in thy spirit 
Childhood, the dream, is waking evermore; 
The Gift of Life and all it do inherit 
Sits, like a bald-pate prophet, at thy door 
And though of years am I a score and four 
I yet for toys could search the natal garret! 



55 



THE POETRY OF HEAVEN IS EARTH'S 

The poetry of Heaven is earth's in fact — 

Sweet zones are these where Beauty flower-girl is ; 
The maid-in-waiting, Love ; those present, viz. : 

Bards whose grand genius wonders does enact. 

As when alone I scan that wide compact 
Whereon is set the seal of Jove and Dis 
An awful spright enshades me: ever 'tis 

My charge for worse or better, mild of tact: — 

All-beauteous One, thou makest, as it were 
A flower-bed of my brain wherein I see 
Full many a bud that soon shall blossoms be 

O' the which my soul is gentle waterer — 

And this, my heart, thou makest, beauteous sir, 
Like to a light load of immortality. 

THE MUSIC OF EARTH 

Music hath Earth forever new and old, 

Music akin to Heaven's poetry; 

When Twilight dreams with Doves, and haylofts 
be 
Silent save for the cricket — when the fold 
Yet hears the pasture's bleat, and from her wold 

The lovelorn Whippoorwill confidingly 

Tells to the stars her tenderest misery 
Then hath our Earth a nocturne manifold; 
Who wide-awake in Slumber's soothy pillow 

The while doth Dawning hark to chaunticleers 
And young Favonius sings a song o' willow 

Hath heard no matins? For him Midas' ears 
Were fitter far: for him Apollo's thrill — O! 

Is not, nor is the music of the spheres. 



56 



ON FAME AND FATE 

Because I dreamt last night I wore a crown 
Of Goldenrod and Poppies intertwined 

My brain grew turbulent as billows blown 
In panting gulfs Magellan erst did find, 

And waking quite to circumnavigate 
Its zones, its boundaries, its girdles well 
Saw a Volcano rise with Vapors fell 

From depths chaotic; these were Fame and Fate; 

P'ame, that bold siren born of feverish blood, 

And Fate, those circling fumes of red and gold — 
Incentives high! — Beware ye young and old, 

The crater lies below, an awful flood — 

Beware, ye young and old: Fame's but a fad; 
What than a worthy name were better had ? 

LOVELY THE BREEZES THAT HAVE 
BLOWN EREWHILE 

Lovely the breezes that have blown erewhile 

O'er clovered lawns what time the swallows 
sung; 

Lovely the vesper bell, when loud its tongue 
To Echo spake: Lovely Milady's smile; 
Lovely the skies, for Dian to beguile 

Endymion with dreams hath softly sprung 

Far from her Moon: then back the stars among 
To quell them ! envious elves ! she frowns awhile ; 
But lovelier far those times, dear cousin May 

When thy sweet voice like to a rose of yore 
Breathed blandly of the happy, happy day 

That never shall return ; the anguish sore 
Felt for a heart at rest: — such thoughts as they 

Thy singing brought, and many others more. 

57 



AT MY FRIEND'S GRAVE 

Wherefore this pain, this heartache manifold? 
This intermittent illness of the soul; 
Dimly around me verdurous mounds enfold 
The Embryo phantoms. Sombre-sad do toll 
My heavy heart chimes. Grief is ever spry : 
Who has not seen her lurk within a flower? 
Or brush her locks in anguish from her eye; 
Or motionless like Silence tell the hour 
A mortal grew immortal? What a sigh 
Inherits Misery! As in a dream 
I contemplate, and isolated seem; 
I dare not look where tombs be cold and bare; 
I can but guess the Roses, and his name: 
Beauty is blurred, — imprisoned everywhere! 



IF I SHOULD NEVER OPE MY EYELIDS 
MORE 

If I should never ope my eyelids more 
As down I lay me to a night's repose 
What words, however feeling, might disclose 

That spirit which were present heretofore? 

Kinsfolk of mine ! ye whom I well adore 
How might I guess what utterance arose 
Deep from your parched throats? — Could ye sup- 
pose 

I viewed, O friends, Life's paradise of yore? 

Beloved, my best Beloved, what words were thine 
Didst thou, thou guardian angel of my heart, 

Resigned, near this wretched couch of mine 
Preside a Psyche? Thus from me apart 

I wonder might I, of thy love condign, 

Share aught with Death, Beloved as thou art. 

58 



WHAT A SPARROW CHIRPED 

Behold me on this maple-tree whose boughs 
Sparkle of ice-stalactites — even here 
I chirp perennial song — hear ye about 
Earth's snowy diamonding? 'tis of my song. 
Hear ye about the Year's fresh vernal dawn? 
And of its June? And of its wintry moon? 
What time the hiving Bee disports himself 
In Honeysuckle bells heard ye my song? 
Daily ye heard it, — heard it but to say 
Thou art despised in general of man: 
Yet even so dear is life unto a sparrow, 
To me, and to my birdling brood, as that 
Which He beyond the Moon and Sun and stars 
Conferred on ye, by trick of chance, born human. 



ON THE BIRD MURDERERS 

{After seeing a Kingfisher's plumage on a Lady's 
hat.) 

Accursed be the murderous hand that slew 

Thee, winged fisher of the lakeland stream, 

And such as thee. God grant he well may rue 
His deed, who, with an impious self esteem 
Kills living Nature and the Poet's dream; — 

Wretches, for mercy should ye sometime sue 
On bended knee, what souls ye taught to scream 

Shall plead for ye, and all your hated crew? 
No Egret, gunshot, or her perished young, 

No Halcyon like this untimely dead, 
No Carolina Paroquet, or tongue 

Of Bullfinch, or birds else, whose blood ye shed, 
Nor yet, foul murderers, for ye is sung 

By Vanity aught henceforth in their stead. 

59 



TO SOLITUDE 

Might I, O Solitude, thy lover be 

Not to Earth's dungeons gloomed, where Dis re- 
poses, 

Would I repair, but to the green Year's posies — 
Nature's repository. Thou with me 
Shouldst sit for long, sweet child of sorcery 

Where lilacs scent the moonlight — or wildroses 

At noon to June the perfumed sun discloses 
Honeyed with bees, — if so it pleased thee. 
Wide is thy universe O Solitude! 

Winter and Summer, Spring and Autumn hours 
Guard thee — and Sleep: hence, art thou to be 
wooed 

One needs with thee must seek the sweetest flow- 
ers — 
June's harebell, August's gentian, skyey-blued, 

April's Azalia, — and kindred powers. 

RETROSPECTION 

Spring's is a bubblesome bird-song — at the drink. 

The crazy geese quack in the watery pool; 

The boys are marbling to and from Time's 
school ; 
And in May's meadows, hark, the Bobolink 
Sings what green pebbly brooks would, as I think. — 

All-Fool's Day hath each truckled soul a fool; 

Out are the Northern Lights; — yet boggy-cool 
Easter's blue Pasques with glorious sun-gems wink; 
'Tis the green hour of Youth and Love-in-shadows ! 

What heart alive but breathes the lover's tale? 
I hear Night whisp'ring to the weeping willows, 

And when the stars Earth's silvery scents exhale, 

I hear again what to his Nightingale 
Sang Adonais thiough the Kilbourn meadows. 

60 



ON CERTAIN CAVILERS OF MR. RICH- 
ARD MANSFIELD 

Mansfield, whose genius lifts the Mimetic Art 
Above itself, despite applause and rage 
Has come into his own ; nor to assauge 

The criticaster's grief shall he depart 

Our stage less than a master. Tho' Delsarte, 
Incarnate, fuss and fume ; tho' Fustian wage 
War on Minerva's temples, yet do sage 

And histrion applaud his mind and heart. 

What think ye, Crotchets, to your deathless shame, 
Ye'd war on Life, the multitudinous? 

The great good actor lives in deed and name 
A Protean ; dies deathlessly — and thus 
When in Time's wings waits the stage Proteus 

Where shall ye be whose folly is your fame? 

JOHN KEATS 

At florid Dawn, when incense borne aloft 

Presages to the blue Heavens Earth's green love, 
A fount I seek, whereby a beauteous Dove 

Cooeth, and listens to his distant croft; 

Of Helicon, to me, the sacred shrine 

Is mirrowed here, for in the watery glow 
Looks from my book a face whose only woe 

Is deathless Beauty's, youthful and benign: 

'Tis Keats, Lorenzo of his Basil theme, 
The Porphyro of Eventide and Dawn. 

'Tis Keats, Endymion of this, my dream — 
Eternal consort of Hyperion! 
Absorbed I stand as stood in days agone 

Narcissus gazing in the vacant stream. 



61 



ON WHISTLER'S PAINTING: "THE AN- 
GRY SEA" 

This tells me life's worth living after all. 

That tho' Greed sore oppress and Envy goad 

To quick retaliation the uncowed, 
The indomitable soul that is withal 
Most sensitive among the sons of men — 

Yet he in Art's Valhalla who can paint 

Like to this Master, leaves his very saint 
On the trembling temples of the Phidian : 
Oh, if ever I have felt Celestialcy — 

The true, the great, the ever handsome might 
Of human effort, it was while the story 

Of Genius, struggling like a Child for Light 

Hurled me upon the wild waves hoary-dight, 
Breathless, without a thought save that of Glory! 



6* 



SONGS 
A WILD ROSE 

(Love Song.) 

Take it. A Wild Rose, dear, — from me, 
The darling ensign of a love; 

'Tis Summer's gift, and tenderly 
It breathes of thee. 

Within its heart, a poem I see; 

Within each petal, dear thy face; 
Within its soul, unconsciously, 

Thy grace is free. 

But where art thou? — Not here with me? 

I do mistake, for me 'tis Fall — 
And Summer's dead. Oh, Misery; 

My visions flee! 

THINE ABSENCE 

I 

A Rose is dying, 
A Hope is crying, 
A Heart is sighing, 
Love for Thee! 

II 

The Rose is dead, 
The Hope hath fled, 
The Heart hath bled, 
For Thee. 

63 



Ill 

Oh, Heartless roaming! 
Oh, Soulless homing! 
Alone in gloaming 
/ mourn thee! 



SLEEPLESS DREAMINGS 

Blow, gently blow- 
Sweet zepher of the night, 
And fan my throbbing heart 
While I in starry light, 
Dream, dream of love. 

Swell, music, swell, 
Thou melody of eve, 
And breathe into my soul 
Sad, plaintive songs which leave 
The brain in tears. 

Smile Stars, O smile, 
Ye peaceful elves above: 
Bestow a ray of Hope 
To nourish dying Love, 
And bid him live. 

Pale, Moonbeams, pale 
And lonely vigils keep ; 
Obscure the misty cloud 
While I in amorous sleep 
Dwell with my love! 

64 



LET US TO THE DEEP- WOOD WANDER 

Let us to the Deep-wood wander 

You and I, 
While vernal clouds hide sunbeams under, 

In the Sky. 

Ah my Dian don't stand and ponder 

Inert and shy, 
( ) pry thee come, love grows the fonder 

Tho' we sigh. 

Away. I'll wreathe for you, dear maiden 

A coronal 
Of Bluets, speedwells, all inlayden 

With Bluebell ! 

MAY DAY— 1902 

'Tis Spring. 'Tis Spring, 

The birds awing. 

Merrily, 

Verily 

Sing 

Of 

Spring. 

'Tis Spring. 'Tis Spring, 

Flora's awing, 

Fairily 

Airily 

Doth she bring 

The flowers o' 

Spring! 



65 



AUTUMNAL LEAVES 

Autumnal Leaves, my Love, are sadly falling; 
Theirs the red splendour of a dying day — 
And Nature's soul, unites with mine, recalling 
A stifled love — a wilted flow'r of May. 
As through the shaded wood I slowly wander, 
A pensive spirit keeps my thoughts apart; 
Of leaves, my love, the desolated grandeur 
Lends sympathy unto my aching heart, 
And now of Nature's grief the very flower thou 
art! 



SOFT GLEAMS 

Soft gleams are drowsy this eve, 
The Moon nods roguishly, 
He peers from out his veil 
Rapturously. 

Soft gleams tint red the Dawn 
The horizon blushes; 
The Sun swoons gildingly 
O'er meadow rushes. 

Soft gleams faint on the Sea 
In feeble splendour 
The blue waves tremblingly 
Breathe music tender. 



66 



I DO NOT LOVE THEE— I ADORE! 

While golden morn is breaking 
While apple blooms are flaking, 
While rosy beams are shaking, 
I do not love Thee, 

Nay, but I adore! 

E'en tho' a Rose is fainting, 
E'en tho' the air 'tis tainting, 
E'en tho' red Grief 'tis painting, 
I love Thee not, 

No, No, but I adore! 

And when the Dusk is pending, 
And when the Moon 's attending, 
And when the Stars are bending 
I do not love Thee, 

I — well I adore! 



A PANSY FOR THOUGHTS 

The flower of my preferment, 
I hand thee ere we part; 
Exhaling in wilted fragrance, 
The breaking of a heart ! 

'Tis the Pansy sweet, instilling 
A cheerless grief in me; 
And, AH, when it dies unwilling, 
'Tis as my love for thee! 

My love which I fain would stifle, 
But which o'ermasters me 
I give, in the thoughtful Pansy; 
'Tis as my love for thee! 

67 



THREE SEASONS 

With pensive sadness twined round my heart, 
I silent muse, within a songful bower, 
And fain would name Three Seasons of a love 
To liken each unto a kindred flower. 

First dawn of hope — the hawthorn I declare 
The Bitter-sweet for doubt; pale summer's guest; 
For fall, a withered astor, as despair — 
Which breathes the spirit of a fruitless quest ! 
A fruitless quest! 



BEAUTY'S GARDEN 

In Beauty's sunlit garden 

I ever see a Rose; 
Dazzlingly beautiful, 
Charmingly dutiful, 

It grows. 

My heart keeps green this garden, 

Nor suffers it to die. 
And often dreamily 
It conquers beamily 

A sigh! 



68 



A DECEMBER IDYL 

Full glorious the night; 

A flood of cold Moonlight 
Hovers on crusted snows; 
Gently a glad breeze blows 

Against My Lady's face: 
In manner, ah most meek 
Behold her rosy cheek 

Glows with a fairy grace 
Past all recording; 
Certes rewarding 
Who loves the lovely ever. 
Ah, dearest, who could sever 

His gaze from thine? 
Harte Mine! 
I see thy tresses raven, 
With a Moonlit softness paven! 

Silvery silver night! 

What ghosts of fled Delight 
Revivest thou? Fond sleigh 
Make once again your way 

Thro' wayward driven snows, 
Trackless save of the Moon, 
Blue-lipped and starry viewn; 

In picturesque repose 
Remote the dingle 
And shadows mingle 
With magic fullness lonely: 
Whither? I know not, only 

Wherever she 
Agree 
There may we speed and fleetly — 
With stars, snow, bells and sweetly! 



69 



HONOR THE ELEMENT OF MIND 

Painting. 

I stood by the side of a fairy-blown fountain 
Which trickled its waters on wild Roses red, 

While perfumed a spray seemed to float and descend 
on 
Cool mosses which slept in a warm, vernal bed. 

Music. 

And then came a strain of soft music entrancing 
From some hidden sources unknown save of rest, 

And saw I a vision of joyous maids dancing 

With her quite surrounded whom I love the best. 

Sculpture. 

O statues, cold figures of classical marble 

Ye next, with white Wisdom, came gently to 
view, 

And mute flitting phantoms of Genius did warble 
The harsh world's injustice: alas but too true! 

Poetry. 

And last tho' not leastwise, I saw a poor poet, 
Perhaps but a rhymster of slumbering verse ; 

Enough said, my burthen dear readers, ye know it, — 
A plea for the title of this poem terse. 



70 



AT THE FULL OF THE MOON 

At the full of the moon 
The dear, the dutiful 
Milady Beautiful 
I kissed in silver slumber: 

Those eyes of her's like Faun's, 
Her cheeks — Venetian dawns: 
Ah, could I kiss them, late or soon, 
Times without number! 

Her voice how silver still ! 
Her heart, it beats a ditty 
Heard but by me and Pity 
In silver slumber lying: 

Would, would, 'twere ever so! 
Those lips my Loveliest — O 
Against my own — I thrill! — 
They press, replying! 

Do, Silence eloquent 

Go breathe my prayer to her — 
My Heart's sweet slumberer: 
From silver sleep absent her: 
For I am weak and faint 
And thou art my Love's saint; 
Sweet Silence, from Heaven sent 
Be thou my mentor! 

SEPTEMBER 

I saw September in her sober bourne 

Of tangled grape-vines watching listlessly 

The Summer leaves, of living lustre shorn, 
And smiling as with mellow sovereignty 

Her soft influence turned all hues, forlorn, 
She symbol'd sorrow's mutability. 

71 



How sweetly sad the interwreathed gloom 
Pervades her chamber; as in sacredness, 

Each liege of Flora, they of Summer doom, 
Yield up their ghosts, and some be odorous. 

The Sunflower, Pickerel weed and other bloom 
Upon her altar, immolate their cause! 

Immaculate ruin. Enweaved with gold 
The foliage gleams. Aurora's silver light 

Fades to an afterglow. All uncontrolled 
The sense of Languor ebbs into the might 

Of Solitude, as may in flowery mould 
A Fay be gently lain from peevish sight. 



AN AUTUMNAL SERENADE 

Sweet Isabelle, 

I love thee, dearest, well. 
In the leafed brown of this Autumnal gloaming 
My heart at length will cancel its sad roaming, 

And thou above 

My head art smiling, Love, 
I see thy face; festooned, thy tresses flowing: 
All beautiful, my Empress, all unknowing, 

May I salute thy Roses, Dove? 

Brown, golden, red, 

Their loveliness unfled 
The dying leaves a sweet complaint are utt'ring- 
Now even so my weary heart is flutt'ring: 

Thro' tendrils green 

I do discern my Queen — 
Her hands upon the window sill soft-resting; 
The light of love unto my soul attesting 

Not vain a Poet's hope hath been. 



72 



All! Violin 

Tin tenderest tones begin: 
Lei old Romance tell pleasance to this Even; 
Mercurial the Moonlight hazes Heaven, 

' )n earth the light 

Melts into darkling night: — 
Sweet Isnbelle. altho' thy name is other 
No name, to me, could so well hint another, 

For she's a bell of beauty quite. 
She is a belle, my heart's! — the lovely wight! 

HYMN TO APOLLO 

Magisterial God 

Didst thou not hearken well 
When mighty Homer's lyre 
Thrilled pinnacle and spire 

Of Genius? Prithee, tell! 

Didst thou not listen rapt 
When Milton, golden themed, 
Thundered sweetly? When 
First Shakespere's awful Pen 
Wrote blazing thought? When beamed 

The fostered Delphic shrine 
With luxuries up-piled — 

The which one Chaucer cast? 

Awoke thy soul aghast 
When Chatterton, sad child, 

From Bristol's hopeful bourne 
His homage tendered thee? 

As Shelley sang and Keats 

Performed lyric feats 
Apollo, hearkened ye? 

73 



Dear Delian Power, 

Fair Phoebus of the bow- 
Full oft have I beheld 
The Oracle, while welled 

Grecian dreams, Apollo: 

And now when I behold 
Atop the glowing hill 

Thy golden self the shade 

Of great God doth pervade 
My soul, and how I thrill ! 

THE YEAR IS A POET 

The Year is a poet, as I guess 

Various of guises; 
His calendar is, more or less, 

A bard's — of sweet surprises; 
The spring is his love-lyric, 
Birds sing its panegyric — 

His pastoral is Summer 

That Ruby-throated Hummer! 
Autumn, spite of minstrelsy 
Is his leaf-blown threnody; 

And Winter, else than epic, his 

Gloria in Excelsis. 

HYMN TO THE GODDESS DIANA 

All hail to thee Dian 

Loved of the Poet clan 

Unceasingly: 

O long may she 

Endure as ages hear 

Dearer and yet more dear 

A sweet succeeding minstrelsy. 

74 



Permit my young desires 
To reach thine cars tho' sires 
Of glorious verse 
Lengthly and terse 
From Grecian Isles and Rome 
Have sought thy skyey home, 

Wingless; whose works the stars rehearse. 

Goddess Imperial 
Hail to thy conched shell! 
Hail to thy crown 
Of starry down ! 
And to thee, heavenly One 
Lustrous as is the Sun, — 

Bright huntress of the starry chase. 

The might of mighty bards 
Palsies my pen — retards 
My dreams. I fail 
When Songsters pale 
From Britain's lyric land 
Sweet-voiced, and grave and grand, 

Re-sing — I stutter all — all hail! 

SIR VALENTINE AND MADELINE 

A Love Lyric 

'O how often in the gloam 

Darling, have I thought of thee 
When the stars were all at home 

Round blue Heavens silverly; 
When Favonius fell asleep 

On some wilding flow'rs — ah me! 
Even Silence slumbered deep 

When I longed, O Madeline, 

75 



Did you smile alluringly 
To sign me, your — 

Sir Valentine!' 

Milady sleeps, poor tired soul! 

She sleepeth: Lo, how beautif'ly; 
Her graces who would not extol? 

She wakes! she wakes! half-drowsily 
Neath her casement, one may see 

White carnations on her brow; 
Pink carnations (sweet they be) 

In her cheeks — but woe betide! 
One awakens to find now 

On one's pillow tear drops dried ! 



A MUSKETEER THANKSGIVING 

At ye hostelry 

Straight dismount full merrily 

Musketeers of aspect fierce: 

Gascons, whose sharp swords have ears. 
Grouping proud the table round 
Jerkin-buffed, and battle-browned, 

These be men full brave I trow, 

More courageous live none now. 

Wine, Mine Host, fill full the cup. 
Wine, 'ma foi, J ere these men sup, 

Wine, the sparkling soul of grape, 

A thing of good, of evil shape. 
Drink ye all, and all partake 
Of game and cold fowl and of cake 

While the fireplace nothing slow 

Gives the room a roaring glow. 



76 



Fades the scene full faraway, 

Fades this scene that on a day 
At the tavern Graces Three, 
In Perigord, Gascony 

Hapt 1 ween in rich Romance; 

Happened an age most hence, 
Guardsmen whereso'er ye be 
Think ye yet on Chivalry? 



THE SWEETNESS OF WORMWOOD 

"Oh, the Sweetness of the Pain!" — Keats. 

What of Life, — and what of Death? 
What the last expiring breath? 
Drinking Beauty, 'spite the Bane — 
Ah, the bitter-sweet of Pain! 

Joy was born a healthful child, 
Sorrow, jealous, him beguiled; 
Hope is lined with Fear's alloy — 
Ah, the saddened heart of Joy! 

Anguish smiles, and Laughter weeps, 
Mirth is deaf, and Glory sleeps, 
Intermingling with the Tear 

Ah, the deadened hope of Fear! 



77 



QUIZZICAL SENSIBILITY 

Dost thou hear the Cricket soliloquize 
In his snug retreat, at Moonrise ? 

I wonder what he says; 
Canst thou enlighten me? 
I think it well may be: 
"I'm free! I'm free! I'm free! 

Always. 
I'm wiser far than Man! 
Of a delightful day 

I can 
Without a thought of gold, wander away!" 

In the swamp, O hearest thou the frog 
Croaking, whilst his shadowy bog 

Echoes right merrily? 
I wonder what his speech? 
If thou'rt aware, beseech 
I you, wise one, to teach 

It me 
At once, for weaklings we 
May ever learn that the 

Small Bee, 
Or Spider, Ant, or Cricket deftly may 

Broaden our mental zone; therefore 'tis wise 
For us the humble ne'er despise, 

But hearken very well 
To voice of every mite. 
Thus I suspect that quite 
A large degree of sight 

Shall tell 
More of God's mystery 
So vast, so unconfined! 

And we 
May profit much thereby, with soul unblind! 

78 



FESTIVAL 

Sad is my heart. Approach ye Muses 
Cheer me ; Come those classic faces ! 
Sing to me while Daylight loses 
Her identity. 

While mellow silver traces 
Of even hover in the Twilight ; 
While the Sun sinks beamily 
In the couch of flaming Night! 
Come bestow your melody. 

My soul would rest on Latmos Plains 

With Endymion and fair — 

Away dank vintage. Distilled drains 

Cannot cheer the brow of Care; 

Orpheus stroke thou thy lyre. 

Grant my uttermost desire 

Come, oh come, each welcome guest, 

Terpsichore, Calliope, 

Erato, and Aphrodite, 

Oh, companions, round me cluster, 

Let mine eye drink in Fame's lustre, 

And be Beauty blessed. 

Come ye Nymphs, ye Fauns, ye Dryads, 

Come ye Mermaids, and ye Naiads, 

Mingle in our melody. 

Speed ye Graces to our aid, 

Join ye Sylphs from dell and glade 

Join our minstrelsy! 

Sweetest Hebe toast each guest! 
Soothly I am thine confessed ! 



79 



A FAIRY SONG 

I held a Rose, 
And the sweet flow'r faded — 
Miserere, miserere! 
I watched it close 
Its petals vaded — 

Miserere, miserere; 
Why permit it, sweetest Fairy? 

I saw a bird ; 
Its poor wing broken — 

Miserere, miserere! 
I never heard 
A heart more spoken — 

Miserere, miserere! 
Some cruel boy 
Gave sore annoy 
This harmless creature, wretched boy ! 

Miserere, miserere! 
Why permit it, lovely Fairy? 

I loved a Love, 
Which Love she was naughty — 
Miserere, miserere! 
Lovely as dove, 
But as Juno haughty 

Miserere, miserere! 
Why permit it, pretty Fairy? 

The Rose died ; 
The Bird cried! 
But Love it is beautiful still! 
And wretch that am I, 
Through many a sigh, 



80 



At sweet, sombre beauty I thrill! 

Miserere, miserere! 
Dost thou blame me, dearest Fairy? 



SLEIGH BELLS 

Jolly, jingling sleigh bells, 

In the frosty air, 
I listen to your chiming 

Through the fields and dells, 
And wish that I in rhyming 
Might keep a kindred timing, 
While sweet my soul was climbing 

To pleasures anywhere. 

Bells of mirth and music, 

Bells of tuneful noise, 
Bells forever singing 

Praises to St. Nick; 
Bells on bob-sleds ringing, 
Merry coasters singing, 
While the nerves are springing 

Healthful, ye rejoice! 

How I love the burthen 

Flowing from your tongues; 

Hurrah for winter glory, 
Born of dreamings when 

Hearth, and twilight hoary 

Old of song and story, 

Mingle hues in glory, 

While ye vent your lungs! 



81 



ELEMENTS, ELFINS, AND ETHICS 

An Eclogue. 

A Rainbow, Ravonia. A Sunbeam, Beametta. 

A Cloud, Clouda. 

Rain. Thunder. Lightning. 

A Fairy Chorus. 

(Beametta and Clouda encounter one another in 
Elfland, situate in Etheria.) 

Clouda : 

Fairest Fairy, whither going ? 

Beametta : 

To the brooklet's silver flowing. 

Clouda: 

Wherefore make such rosy haste? 

Beametta : 

Roses plucked go fast to waste. 
Thro' thy robe of ebon frail 
Darts of brilliances prevail: 
Lightning threatens — 

Clouda: 'Tis afar, 

Never need thee — 

Beametta : 

In my car 
Or chariot of furbished gold 
Haste I must; tho' nothing told 
Fear is huge when shades appear, 
Autumn mists hide Winter sere, 
Lurk in ambush ruthless foes 
Known of none save salient Woes, 

82 



Lurks the Lightning's warning fell, 
So, kind fairy, a farewell. 
Clouda : 

Groundless fears 
Sighs and tears — 
Beametta: 

Clouda, I will see thee more 
On the sweet Ozonian shore 
Built of blossoms freely blown 
From Queen Flora's regal throne, 
We will breathe in flow'ry breaths, — 
Hope alone hath many deaths, 
Therefore it is best avoid 
Moody thoughts with Anguish cloyed; 
Fall these oft to mortal lot 
But immortals know them not. 
Farewell ! 
Clouda : 

(Embrace, and Beametta wings away.) 
O fervent spell 
Thou art broken — warm thy glance 
Fell on golden dalliance. 
Ah, I love, and what is love? 
Talisman intact above : 
Gentler than a cooing dove 
To the sense is soothing love: 
Words too soft these times belie, 
Fearful frowns the darksome sky: 
Away ! Away ! 

Nor seek to stay : 
Fates are rueing, 
Storms are brewing! 
(Flys away) 
Enter Thunder: 

With a crash and rugged roar 
Herald I the Stormking hoar, 

83 



Vulcan doth his anvil strike: 
(Clamor Jove must need belike,) 
Jupiter, a javelin 
Hurls into the awful din: 

Powerful we 
Sprites of Terror's minstrelsy! 

Lightning: 

\dd I wreckage to the blast, 

; Rain h assed: 

< rerful we 
Sprites of Terror's minstrelsy! 

Rain: 

Discord wears a winsome smile, 
We seem harmless but in guile 
Work most direful revelry 
As the flood-tides well agree: 

Powerful we 
Sprites of Terror's minstrelsy! 
( The Elements rage, and fleet before 
Ravonia and Fairy Chorus.) 

Ravonia : 

Hearken, lovely Elfins, hark. 
To Ozonia bends my arc, 
Luminous the path and clear 
Leads to Faydom, never fear; 
Purple, green, the way, and red 
By reason of the royal tread 
Of goodly Mab and Oberon: 
Footprints of the Fairy train 
Sinking in the Sun's gold wane 
And tracked thence my plains upon. 

Fairy Chorus: 

Thither, thither will we go 
Where leads this, thy beautied bow! 

Ravonia : 

Well done 

84 



Chorus: 



I -^wcar by crown of Oberon! 
All that Beauty may avow 
Straightway I shall show thee now. 



Follow, follow, where we're bade 

Fairies ne'er can be misled, 

Follow ^wift Ravonia dear, 

Flutt'ring thro' the heavenly air 

Nothing need we fear 
To dare, 

Love and Beauty's everywhere! 
Ravonia : 

Soothly, 'tis a fair response 

Off let's hasten us at once. 

(they vanish all; the hues fade) 
(Shades of Ethics' disciples arise.) 
Philosopher: 

Heard I not a rush of wings? 

A ripple from Satanic springs? 

Perforce 'twas but a Nightingale 

Winging thro' a lonely vale. 

Perforce it were an Angel's tear 

Dropping down from regions drear: 

Fact from Beauty is estranged 

When one is 'gainst the other ranged. 
Painter : 

Canvas take a fitting mold. 
Poet: 

My brain is burning — words are cold! 

Madly flow my soul in verse! 
Musician: 

Softened strains, my lyre, rehearse. 
Sculptor: 

Marble link with Fancy brown. 



85 



Fame: 

All I give a laurel crown. 
Thorns in life shall intertwine 
But dissolve when death is thine! 

SATANESS 

Tho' a wretch perchance I be, 

Born of mirth and misery 

When the stars for very shame 
Fled the night, who is to blame 

Demon! that thou hatest me? 

Love-sick I am still for thee. 

Supplications, vows, — travail, 

All had been without avail 
Didst thou not at set of moon 
To Love's lute thy passion tune: 

Then it was, that, flusht and pale 

I had died of love and ail. 

Come, and ope thy soul to me — 

Like the Evening Primrose be; 
Come and faint upon my breast 
As the Moon to Heaven is pressed: 

Come, my Sataness to me — 

Oh! I love thee utterly! 

FRAGMENT— GENIUS 

Genius? Who hath that sacred spark? 

The mortal soaring up like lark 
Through blue ethereal, 
Exploring skyey sites at will — 

The poet's province? Or that man 

Half crazed, who frets beneath the ban 

86 



Of Envy, Malice, Poverty; 
For what? That after-ages see 
A silver signet? Or is it 
The worldly wight, bereft of wit 

Who flatters fumblers? Where is bred 
This flame divine? Or in the head 
Or in the heart? What is the king? 
Or conqueror? or anything 

A sage or clown betwixt, when realms 
Shall sink? when chaos overwhelms 
The world : when nears to nothingness 
And night this planet? Who may guess? 

MAYFLOWERING 

Will we go Mayflowering 
After this warm showering 

Scents the foliage of spring? 

Answer Mabel mine. 
See, the sun is dowering 
Wood and hill, and bowering 
Many a bough are birds awing 

This day, indeed, how fine! 
In the sky a cloud is not, 
But a rainbow lingers — what 

Dear, prevents our holidaying? 
Soothly come, let's go a-Maying 
While the hollow of the hills 
With a magic glory thrills; 

Soothly never answer nay; 
Take a basket; we will gather 
In this fresh, delightful weather 
From the hill, the field, the pool, 
Flowers and ferns and grasses cool. 



87 



FRAGMENT LIFE 

What is life? 

Much of strife, 

Many tears — many toys, 
Many fears — many joys, 

Much of hope — 

In sun and lightning 

Much to grope. 



AT SIOUX CITY: PERRY CREEK. 

here near the creek 
At hide-and-seek 

1 could tag my Youth in a green recess 
Where the blue-eyed Spring 

With her tenderest wing 
Reclothed the desolate wilderness. 

Upon the green shore 

I could linger more 

Till Summer fluttered out of a rose; 

Till waft-balls light 

Toward Heaven took flight — 

And here could I stay till the season's close. 



88 



NOVEMBER SONG 

The boughs are bare, 
And here and otherwhere 
Brown leaves lie dead, 

A mantle for the Ice King's tread, 
But brave and fair 
Do not despair 

For flowers will wed 
Another year. 

Done is the day 

In early deepest gray: 

Anon dull red 

The fiery Sun's great ghost is shed 
In skyey grey 
Now Nightfall may 

Blot out the red 
To cancel day. 

Ho, in the glare 

From the hearth's fitful fire 

Will cluster we 

While the wild wind moans ghostily 
From chimney-where: 
To listen there 

High deeds in the 
Pages of war. 

L'Envoi 

Ah, brave and fair, 
Do not despair 

For flowers will wed 
Another year. 



89 



AN ELDEN VALENTINE 

A Ballad 

When "dauntless Aella fray'd the Dacian foes" 

{Somewhat in the manner of Chatterton) 

One golde redde morne a daie of olde 

Whanne maydes were fayre and knyghts were bolde 

A lass a letter dydd receive 

Fromme her espoused, Lorde Grcneve, 

Whyche same she loste ne tyme to rede 

For urgente was thatte selfsame nede. 

(Therefore she onne the contents fedde) 

And gentle reder thys ytte sayde: 

"Ladye: 

Thys howre I do departe 

Fromme warre to clayme mie deare Sweet- 

hearte 
Fayre Clarimonde, soe tender true, 
Soe yonge, soe gracefulle, nobille too; 
Fromme bugle blastes and myckle woe 
To thee mie thoughts wyth ardour goe. 
The warre's ne moe, and soe I leave 
For thee, mie Swete — 
Thine, 

Lorde Greneve." 

Whyle whytest lillies rounde her grewe, 
And reddest roses, fragraunt too, 
A teare of joie felle fromme her eyne 
As she softe murmured: "Hearte myne!" 



90 



CELESTE 
Ballad 

An incident in the life of a certain clergyman 

Their Wedding Day ! How red it dawned ! 

How fair the groom, how blond the bride! 

Untrammel'd walked she at his side — 
Her joyance past profound! 

Of Summer eves, this self-same way 
In languishment they linger'd sweet, 
And read: then homeward bent their feet 

When Dusk had won the Day. 

Ah me! is ever joy ordain'd? 

Were ever grief impalpable? 

Many a love-tale did they tell, 
Of Vesper heard, while waned 

This lovely day, and thence repair 

The twain unto the cottage soon 

As hazy twilights of the Moon 
Bloomed blue an evening rare. 

Without the mansion, Summer flow'rs 

Resigned fragrance to the breeze; 

Within the murmurous ecstacies 
Told of young nuptial-hours! 

As in a wakeful dream he hears 

Her gentle voice, nor swerves his gaze 
From her's. He seems to hear in 'maze, 

The music of the spheres! 



91 



Would I might leave them haply so! 
But it were vain to hope such bliss 
Upon a planet cruel as this 

Where Joy, seen close, is woe. 

Oft is it proved, and proved full well 
The serpent hisses in the Rose, 
The red Sun hides the Cloud morose, 

The Ugly freights the beautiful! 

Ah, bride and groom so soon to be, 
Thy nuptial rites are still afar, 
They'll fade as Hesperus, sweet star 

Sinks in the skyey sea! 



"Where is the bride? Celeste my bride? 

My throat is parched, — cannot speak! 

A moment since at hide-and-seek 
She left! Where is the bride?" 

In consternation, faces 'ghast 

They pause, then institute a search 
And bright the Moon, celestial torch, 

Aids till the Night is past. 

With morn full wild the bride-groom haunts 
A dingy room, where is a chest: 
He calls her name: "Celeste! Celeste!" 

And fancies a response. 

Cold moonbeams sleep within the hall. 

He listens! Did she moan? or sigh? 

Is't but a fancy? O I'd die 
This anguish to forestall! 



92 



Of others, he betimes is sought — 
"'Twas but a chimera forlorn:" 
Anew they search till starless morn 

And find the lady not! 

Goeth the servant to convey 

The silver service to the chest: 
Draweth the lid: "O sweet Celeste! 

Woe! Woe! betide this day!" 

Quickly she summons searchers all, 
And there — O horrid to expound! — 
In chest, her bloodless body found : 

The groom seemed like to fall! 

Speechless as marble cold he stood 
Over the wretched iron-bound chest 
And in death's beauty, bridal drest, 

The hapless bride he view'd ! 

Pallid as ivory in thrall 

Absent he murmur'd half aloud : 
"Thus is the bridal gown her shroud! 

The bridal rose her pall!" 

BEAUTY 

Where was Beauty born, sweet Beauty? 

She was born of Love and Duty, 

Nor on earth, in Lark-a-Day, 

Elysium, nor Arcady — 

But a time when Sun and Moon 

Met at Jove's high court: 'twas noon. 

All the Fairies danced — the dears! — 

To the music of the spheres — 

The Three Graces, too, were present, 

93 



As was Cupid adolescent — 
Yea, the whole of Fairydom 
To that meeting-place was come 
Where the clouds shone clear as morn, 
Where sat daylight stars sun-scented, 
There was darling Beauty born: 
But a kiss of Love conceived her — 
Phoebus and Dian received her 
As their own — the Nymph consented. 

Such was her immortal birth, 
Yet on this, our pleasant earth, 
Like the spirit that she is 
Many births hath she: what bliss 
To discover them, each one — 
Sooth, 'twould take a Protean 
Half his days but to commence; 
There she is: the darling child! 
Her manner meek, a redolence 
Clinging to her tresses wild — 
O could shepherd Pan behold her 
All his flocks he would forget, 
All the Dryads, — every pet 
Might he neglect to once enfold her 
To his breathless heart: she's gone 
Even as a startled Faun : 
Follow to the wildwoods, follow! 
Culling flowers in the hollow — 
Like to Ceres' Prosperine 
At Enna — yes, but she'll not stay 
For any Pluto, be he fine 
As silk, to spirit her away! 

There she is: the darling child! 
Ever thoughtless! ever wild! 



94 



On her brow are Easter lilies, 
And Pansies that in Paradise 
Grow as wild as Daffodillies 
Do on earth — there ! in a trice 
She hath darted: follow, follow! 
Ride thee on the wings of Swallow, 
Or on those of Butterflies, 
Else that blue-eyed Beauty hies 
Far from thee and human ties — 
O follow! follow! follow! 

There she is: If thou hast flown 

In swift pursuit thou tarriest now 

At her bounds, a mighty zone 

That girdles Earth and Heaven, — How 

Beautiful is Beauty smiling! 

Every loveliness is here. 

Her time away each Sylph is whiling, 

Yet Time but fades to reappear — 

Here are rainbows beautier 

Than ever Science scattered afar; 

Here are sights that sages hoary 

Never dreamed of in all their glory: — 

Yet their texture intermingles 

With what Earth hath : twilight ingles, 

Bird-choirs hymning seasons three, 

The Ghost of winter ecstacy! 

St. Jacob's ladder on the Skies, 

And Milky Ways to Paradise, 

And St. John Evangelist's 

Seven gold candlesticks, and mists 

That heavenly be: all these and more: 

Shadows of sweet scents, the roar 

Of noiseless cataracts, — the boon 

Surpassing all, when Summer's moon 

Sings silver music to the stars — 



95 



Such-like is what Beauty brings 
Down from Heaven — wordless things! 
Such her texture is. When bars 
Skyey and dark drop sultry rains; 
When in twilight window panes 
Looks a sunset face; when sire 
And Household hug the drowsed fire; 
When the banked house is warm 
Listening to the frozen storm; 
Or, when Circus comes a day 
And Childhood wakes with Dawning grey- 
Then hath Beauty that sweet miss 
Lurked unseen, O there she is! 

Like as blown soap-bubbles burst, 
All their mirages dispersed — 
Like as th' iced frost-crystal fadeth 
When its pane Apollo raideth — 
Like as wilted flowers when their 
Souls have flown into the air — 
So is Beauty come and gone, 
Elusive, changeable as Dawn. 

Many times as by design 
Whether rain or whether shine, 
Tho' Autumn acorns lie around 
Fallen upon a frosty ground ; 
Tho' our earth be in a spell 
Where the sleety hailstones fell, 
Hath that Beauty, peerless miss! 
Lurked unseen, O there she is! 

There she is ; no birdy brogue 
Beside the Bluejay's, — pretty rogue, 
Shall she hear. — The Thrush hath flown 
Sometime since to a sunnier zone; 

96 



Oriole no more is heard, 

Nor Ruby-throated Hummingbird; 

Whistling Meadowlark is seen 

No more, nor on the evergreen 

Purple Grackles squeak: heigh ho 

Beauty is Thought, Thought flieth — O! 

Thrasher thrashes now no tail, 
Finch he stayeth not, and frail 
Summer Wren, she shaketh not; 
Sooty chimneys smoking hot 
Hide no Swifts; no Yellowhammer 
Digs in search of ants; the clamor 
Of English Sparrows fills the air, — 
Yet here's Beauty everywhere. 

Red-head-Woodpeck beaks no tree; 

Black-billed Cuckoo elsewhere cooeth; 

Chewink says no tow-hee-hee; 

Pewee plaineth not nor rueth; 

Vireo no longer wingeth 

Here, nor Vesper Sparrow singeth 

His evening vespers; Wild Canaries 

Would scorn these forked shrubs: none tarries. 

Tho' these birds they all have flown, 

Beauty never is alone. 

Redpolls, Juncos, Snowflakes she 

Loves, and the Blackcapped Chickadee. — 

Here she lingers — off she flies — 

Restless child — O there she lies 

Asleep in flowers! O, lovely, she 

Many a time hath come to me: 

Disguised once she broke my slumbers 

Whispering in mine ear such numbers 

As would weave a diadem 

For me, could I remember them! 



97 



"Thou art but a youth" says she, 
"I the Muse of Minstrelsy" — 
Said she'd teach me all of glory 
Did I listen to her story; 
Said — I waked — but lovely She 
When first I saw her I resolved 
That, whatsoever it involved, 
Soon a poet I should be. 



SIBYL SONG 

False-heartedly I 

Alluring lie 
In wait for victims many: 

I woo rare and sigh — 

They do, dare and die, 
For too well 'tis known that a sibyl I 

Have not of pity any. 

My kisses breed shame! 

My embrace the same! 
My passion engulfs the unwary: 

My love is a flame 

Devouring nor tame — 
The daughter true of Glory and Shame 

I am a demon fairy. 

How sweet is my smile! 

How subtle my wile — 
O often I goad men to madness 

And that which is vile 

I love all the while; 
Seductive am I of veriest guile 

Nor given much to sadness. 



98 



Tho' strange it may seem 

Awake in a Dream 
Some call me siren Circe — 

And other folk deem 

Me (while I scream 
Of caverns tawdry, of lightning agleam) 

La Belle Madame Sans Merci! 



ROMANTICISM 

Are those days forever fled? 

Of Romance the heralded? 
Shall we never see them more 
Gallantly as heretofore 

Echo non-complying? 
Gypsies in the brown yestreen 
Dancing to the tambourine: 

Echo un-replying? — 



Days of Outlawry if ever 
Ye pass current fright us never — 
For 'tis nothing but the name — 
Outlawry, and dear to Fame: 
Come, my friend the hearth-stone by 
Snugly, while a warmed die 
From the kindly coals attend us 
And the room in shadows send us 
On a voyage far away — 
Thou, too, Fancy, say me yea. 

Shift the scene to Sherwood old, 
Marian and Hood behold 
Indolencing like as when 

LOFC. 99 



Quite surround by Morris Men 
They made merry one and all — 
Is Tradition but a pall? 

Shift the scene: knight errantry 

Buds and bursts in flower, — see 

The feudal castle: Lady Vain 

A 'kerchief flaunts — with might and main 

Two contestants, sword and shield, 

Battle wage: may Sir Knave yield! 

These bear bravely, but for all 

Is Tradition but a pall ? 

Shift the scene: in royal courts 
The Troubadour himself disports 
Wedding Music unto Verse — 
Is Tradition but a hearse? 
Ah! and darling Chatterton 
Dauntless antiquarian — 
Woe is me; my eyes grow dim 
How Tradition handles him! 

Shift the scene: D'Artagnan follows 

With the Guardsmen Three; and wallows 

In a bloody pool the Don — 

O that bullfights were all gone! — 

'Mid a clash of ringing steel 

Feudal lords make woe and weal — 

Shift the scene: there's Cyrano 

'Gainst a hundred men, or so — 

Glory! what a parlous sight! 

Old Tradition; where's your light? 



Archers, can ye bear your part 
Before old Richard Lion Heart ?- 
IOO 



Guelph and Ghibclline, adieu: 

Are there plenty more like you ? — 

Like Rob Roy? Like Roderick? 

Like Magregor — ye Scotch clique? 

Like "The Cid ?" — and Spanish henchmen? 

Like Villon and fellow Frenchmen? 

Like the lovers Rimini? 

Yes ! and tho' they needs must be 

Few perhaps and far between, 

Them Tradition's hand shall wean 

From the present for the morrow: 

Therefore let's not say with sorrow 

Days of Chivalry are flown 

Idyllic Brigandage (?) unknown 

Tho' the Crusades are past history 

And the Morris Men are mystery — 

But come, let's think full hard upon 
And discuss it pro and con: 

Echo un-replying? 

Echo non-complying. 



ON COMING ACROSS A BLUEBELL IN A 
SEPTEMBER RAMBLE 

Wherefore did Summer leave thee alone 
Brave Bluebell-flower unless it be 
That tho' to Flora she was flown 
She yet would hear thy constancy 
Ring out, albeit saddishly? 

Fame, like a star at noon is unseen 
But comes it late to glorious power. 



IOI 



Such is thy answer as I ween 

Thou pretty little gritty flower, 

Thou to whom Autumn shows her dower. 

AT THE DEATH'S-HEAD 

A Ballad 

At the Death's-head 

Beside old Cross-bone Inn — 
Where ghosts and spectres revel 
The livelong night with the devil, 
I drunk the Wine of Sin! 

At the Death's-head 

Ye Gods! what ghoulish glee, — 
One sat as still as ouzel 
Whiles madmen in carousal 

Shriekt love as hate may be! 

At the Death's-head 

Some daggers flasht o' moon — 
Lo! and behold! how bloody! 
Dark deeds and Passions ruddy 

Have happened long agoon! 

THE MONTHS: LIFE'S CALENDAR 

January is a jewel 
Sparkling on Milady Cruel; 
February, sweetheart mine, 
Is — dear me — a Valentine ! 
March as lion or as lamb 
Roars and bleats, a double sham; 
April, little Easter fool 
Primps and trots to Sunday-school; 
102 



May is a flower-girl — pretty May 
Often with her I've gone to play; 
June is a love-song, so I've read, 
June is a dove-song, mote be said; 
July 's a patriot, and a Polly 
Prating speeches full of folly; 
August — August what art thou? 
A plough-boy dreaming of the plow? 
September — ah, how can I miss you? 
Come, sweet bride, and let me kiss you. 
Old October runs his swale 
Drunken with brown October ale; 
November — she is naught save Death, 
And Dissolution — but December 
Is a Star who witnesseth 
And endeth this, our Calendar. 



TOAST FOR NOEL 

All hands around 

And to the sound 
O' crackling logs and clinking glasses 

We'll pledge your cause 

O Santa Claus! 
We lords and lasses. 

All hands around! 

And while from Sound 
Night's frozen wheels to Silence run, 

We'll say with him, 

Youth's Tiny Tim: 
God bless us, every one! 



103 



EASTER VILLANELLE 

Here are Lilies, Darling, yellow and white — 

Wilding lilies, lilies tame — 
Which shall you have for Easter night? 

Says the wilding lily: I come, a spright 

Weaned from a watery moon, sweet dame: — 
Here are Lilies, Darling, yellow and white. 

Says the lily tame: From Heaven's height 
On a martyr's pinions to earth I came: — 
Which shall you have for Easter night? 

Which shall you choose, and which shall you slight? 

The lily wild or the lily tame? 
Here are Lilies, Darling, yellow and white. 

Lilies from ponds all moony bright! 

Lilies from greenhouses fair of fame! 
Which shall you have for Easter night? 

Easter hath all but taken flight! 
Yet still I linger and more's the blame. 
Here are Lilies, Darling, yellow and white; 
I wreathe them together, and so — good night. 



A BLEAK WINTRY DAY 

(A Dirge) 

The North wind is sighing, 
And snow clouds are flying — 

Flying away; 
The sparrows are winging, 

104 



And drearily singing 
A noisy lay. 

The frost trees are weeping, 
As green buds are sleeping, 

All frozenly; 
Nature seems dreary, 
And soulfully weary — 

Weary, today. 

Across the white clearing, 
A weak Sun is peering 

In mockery, 
'Tis like dull Hope, mourning, 
In heart which forlorning 

Thinks not of May. 

Ah, so let our pining 
In soul which resigning 

Greets misery — 
Choose yet a day clinging 
To sorrow, and bringing 

Melancholy. 

And in the white Gloaming 
While Fancy is roaming, 

Abroad with her doom 
On cold bleak Mooncresting 
We'll lay Grief a-resting; — 

Snowbound her Tomb! 

IN SOOTH— LA 

In sooth — la — 
In youth — ah! — 
I met the sweet Sadie. 
105 



Than Ruth — ah 
Or Leutha 
Was fairer this lady 

Or Petrarcha's Laura! 
But, like sweetest Flora, 
This lady was fadey 

And— ah! 

Since youth — la 
In sooth — ah! 
I miss my sweet Sadie. 



GREED 

He crawls coward in his hut 
And the rusty hinges shut 

A creaking door: 

Within he counts a store 
Of worldly usury; 

His form is gaunt, 
His cheeks are hollow, 

Stares he on vacancy 

With horrid ecstacy: 
And counts, as is his wont 
The scornings of Apollo! 

Not mental free is he, 
But grisly thoughts, rebellious to extol, 
Are vassals of his craven soul ! 



1 06 



OF CHILDHOOD REMINISCENT 

Glory and Gloom attends the man who wends across 

a field 
His footsteps reminiscent, whose heart is Youth's 

revealed. 
For him is life a labyrinth, and insofar as dreams 
Wing the immortal spirit, his soul like sunlight 

beams : 
But great the change that may be wrought within 

too few short years, 
And great the cold rejoicings, and great the truant 

tears ; 
Such inward satisfactions and such outward pangs 

are his! 
Such joyant recollections and such motley miseries! 

You scare grasshoppers at your feet, you startle 
gnats away. 

From your invasion flees the bee ; in quest of holiday 

The dragonfly betakes himself flicking a lucent 
wing, 

While in the airy blue treetops the guests of Sum- 
mer sing. 

The Indigo, the Vireo, and Purple Finches — red, 

Awake betimes, melodiously, the memories long 
since fled. 

Anon in an abstraction gone, you rest, and round 
your home 

Childhood is strange and sportive, and you a youth 
unknown. 

Unknown the school will stare at you; you pause 

before its gate ; 
Inside are growing on the lawn the flowers which 

you elate 

107 



In former days made customary. Bells are silent 
now; 

Silent the Chalk, silent the Slate, silent the Play- 
grounds — How 

Now, how now, thou trickster, Time, durst thou re- 
vivify 

Pale Deathless Youth, before Death's scythe? Who 
with a tearless eye 

Beholds thee and conjures? O Time where is that 
loving friend 

Who, in the dawning halycon, did this same school 
attend ? 

Roundly the sun is setting red behind an ebon cloud 
Whose edge is robed with garish gold — were even 

such my shroud ! 
A little of bright brilliance, a little of gross gloom, 
A little of sad sweetness may well become a tomb: 
Amen. The Swift his chimney seeks, the Night- 
hawk preys thro' all 
The skyey incandescences; — and Night is Twilight's 

pall. 
Homeward I wend my footsteps. O, a Youth, at 

Dusking's hour 
I'd grow insensate gradually, and die as dies a flow- 
er. 



YE DAYS OF CHIVALRY 

Now uplifts the baron old, 
Aloft the goblet done of gold, 
And withouten formal rites 
Toasteth he the gallant knights 
Famed high in heraldry: 
Now the halls ring revelry, 
Rises full a rugged shout, 
1 08 



Swells the room with noble rout: 
Shines on high the grape's ripe juice 
Held by him in Honor's truce; 
Happened this full long ago, 
Else my pen might never know. 



HALLOWE'EN 

A Triolet. 

I'll try a triolet 
On Hallowe'en, the grandam's plague, 

When spooks and goblins fret, 

I'll try a triolet 

When weird ghost children pet, 
(Your utmost leniency, I beg) 

I'll try a triolet 
On Hallowe'en, the grandam's plague. 

TO MISERY 

Wherefore tease me 

Misery? 
Come and sit upon my knee; 

We're friends indeed — 

And 'tis my meed 
To entertain thee, Misery. 

Ah tell to me 

Misery, 
Tales of Sorrow, merrily: 

A sad — sweet ditty 

Heard but by Pity 
When she listens, Misery! 

109 



Well I love thee, 
Misery, 
Never jealous need ye be: 

My heart is bleeding 

And only heeding 
Art thou now sweet Misery. 

Ah let me see 

Misery, 
Thy lips to my lips pressed be. 

Smile thro' thy tears, 

For it appears 
Tear drops are Grief's rosary ! 

IN RE ROBIN HOOD 

Where's romantic Robin Hood, 
The brave, the bold, the robber good ? 
Where's Maid Marian the fair, 
She of Amazonian air? 
Whither now, Romance, this twain? 
Ye have known their rise and wane, 
Known their haunts of rural glory 
Breathed oft in song and story; 
With them ye have supped and dined 
With them ye your pledge have signed 
That their prowess still may be 
When no more is yeomen ry ; 
Ye have drunk their old brown ale 
At the tavern table hale; 
When the smoking, viands glistened 
Then to daring deeds ye listened : — 

Yo ho ! for Robin Hood ! yo ho ! 

Let all Romantic bugles blow! 

And let every clarion 

Sing the praise of Marian ! 
Yoho! 
no 



Yo ho, for Sherwood forest green 
And red with Autumn skies serene; 
Yo ho, for all ye Merry Men 
In grene shaw and woody glen, 
Who made the Middle Ages dear 
To the heart of Romancer. 
Robin Hood! O, here's to you! 
To you Maid Marian and true. 
Here's to you, O Tuck the Friar 
And to your crackling kettly fire. 
Here's to you Alan-A-Dale 
And with the brown October ale! 
To you, Will Scarlet; Little John; 
To the Merry Morris clan; 
Nottingham and Durden Dame: 
(Sheriff? Gods defend the same!) 
Guy of Gisborne, here's to you! 
Ail I drain the dregs unto. 
Merry, Merry be for aye, 
Ever gladsome, ever gay 

Bugles, bugles, blow, blow, blow, 
Lives Romance in forests lorn 
Where is wound the mellow horn, 

Yoho! Yoho! Yoho! 

HESPERIDES: RESOLVE 

Ill-starred it might have been 
Had Hercules foreseen 

Its magnitude: 
Ourselves are much at fault 
In that o'er things occult 

We cause much feud, — 
Not so with Hercules, 

His path he knew 

Eventually led to 
The gold Hesperides. 
m 



TWO FRAGMENTS 

Death. 

Death, what are thou? What thy pang? 
When to die is but to wake 
The sunder'd spirit, and to slake 
The thirst for immortality? 

Hope. 

Ring-dove of dusking, warm, 
Murmur to me when anguishing 
I cannot see thy form, 
Or hear thy gentle wing. 



THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 

Let us hence, I implore 

To the fountain of youth 
To drink evermore 

The elixir in truth! 
Ponce de Leon 

Of night or of dawn 
Full free from travail, 

Assuredly sooth, 
Or burthen or ail 

To the fountain of youth 
Let us hence, I implore 
To dwell evermore! 



112 



TO HOPE 

Come Hope, let's both go foolishing — 

A-foolishing say I 
For wise-men are as fools, 
And fools are as wise men — 
Ahem! 

Let's not consort with them, 
But we will both go foolishing: 
It's ho, for the merry eye! 

And it's ho for the merry nose. 
It's ho for the merry sigh, 

And it's ho for the merry toes — 
Come Hope, let's both go foolishing, 
A-foolishing, say I. 

SOMETIMES IN DUSK I WEEP, I KNOW 
NOT WHY 

Sometimes in dusk I weep, I know not why 
Like a dark Cloud beneath the frowning Sky 
Or a bright Rainbow dissipated all, 
Or as a Starbeam laid in twilight's pall; 
I weep, and would atone 
To thee, Great God, alone, 
For weaknesses and sin! 

THE DRAGON FLY 

Perseus of eld 
As I beheld 

A winging Dragon Fly 

This morning, I 
Bethought myself, 

I know not why 
(For 'tis a harmless elf) 

"3 



Of the fierce Dragon-head 

Vanquished 
In mythologic tale 
When heroes hale 

Braved foe afield in coats of mail! 
But ah, light winged Fly 
Thou hast a mission high 

To feed on noxious prey 

Each sun or sunless day. 



WHILE MOONBEAMS FLOAT IN AU- 
TUMN AIR. 

A Rondeau. 

Adieu, Sweet Love, the hour grows late — 

Ere I have fled the garden gate 

I fear, I fear upon my soul 

We shall have misst the golden goal. 

Which golden goal ? Why that of Love 
Whose sweet insignia is the Dove. 
Excess makes vapid, I'll renew 
Another time this quest: adieu. 

Adieu, and hence me I shall fare 
While Moonbeams float in Autumn air, 
And waft September's zoning through 
The parched red leaves: Dear Heart, adieu. 

Adieu, Dear Heart, but ere I go 
Kiss this dear Clematis, and O 
Bathed by the winking gems of dew 
'Twill be my Rosary, — adieu! 



114 



LOVE VERSES 

While away from thee 

I sigh my dear; 
Tho' thou afar mayst be 

Yet art thou near! 

As Moon is to night, 

As Sun to day, 
Unto my famished sight 

Thou art alway. 

If thou smil'st or no, 
Thine image seems 

To keep my heart aglow 
With divers dreams. 

Ah me, dear love, I 
Mingle with chimes: 

Adieu, wert thou but nigh 
Ere cooled my rhymes! 



SYMPATHY 

Why look so saddish, Sweetheart Mine? 
Why wipe away a Tear? 
Why seek an interview with Grief, 
When Joy is waiting near? 

Sadness is beauty, so they say, 
Sorrow, the rich heart's gold ; 
But Love, thou art so beautiful 
That Beauty's self seems cold. 

Do smile a little, Fairest One, 
Though Tears are blessed by thee, 

115 



A smile betokens restful Hope: 
The treasured memory! 

A Smile I'd call a message sweet 
Unto the heart of Love; 
A message writ in every beat; 
I swear it by the Dove! 

Each Tear of thine, awakens throbs, 
Responsive in my heart ; 
Each one, I fancy, is a Care 
Which holds a hidden Dart! 

Then subjugate those traitor Tears, 
And bid them, — bid them flee; 
Or if thou must in Sorrow, dwell, 
Oh, let me dwell with thee! 



THE POET'S FRIENDS 

Who are the Poet's friends; 
His friends inanimate? 
Are not the ocean glens — 
The flagged black birded fens — 
His friends? 

Are not the wild Spring flow'rs 
Dew-fed, upon the sward ; 
The Bee in cellful bow'rs; 
The Breeze, the warm sun showers 
Intimate powers? 

Are not the amorous Cloud ; 
The slumberous tinkling Dell; 



116 



Sweet Spring with May-blooms bowed; 
Mild Autumn in sober shroud — 
Companions proud? 

Are not the gold-faced Morn — 
The Moon with resplendent glance — 
The Stars which Dusk adorn — 
Dame Grief with smile forlorn — 
His comrades born? 

Answer me Muse, 'tis true; 
Lend me encouragement; 
Swear by the Sky's deep blue, 
Swear by the Rainbow's hue 
His friends aren't few! 



A PICTURE 

Not quite a rogue, nor yet a slave 

A youth was he whom Heaven prized. 
Nor harsh, nor stern his soul forgave 

Many a man his heart despised; 
Loving he was, yet no one knew 
His spirit. For renown he never crew 

Nor sought the Public ear 

With sayings insincere. 



117 



STANZAS 

A kiss? 
'Tis a feast supernal — 
A banquet spread eternal 
By Eros' self. The kernel 

Of utter bliss; 
The flittered pure quota 
From honey-dew, and O the 
Light effervescent soda 

Compound of lusciousness ! 

A kiss? 
'Tis the soul's excrescence — 
The heart's hid iridescence — 
The sight concealed, from whence 

All beauty is. 
The core of happiness, 
When mutual spirits bless 
True Love's sad wilderness, 

And sip the brimming chalice! 

A kiss ? 
'Tis a Rose by gold Dusk tended, 
A cloud in Dawning's glow, suspended, 
A daisy by the dewdrop bended 

Felicitous ; 
Green foliage kissed Autumnal, 
Tree tops which the zephers thrill, 
The pale Moon silvering the rill, 

Exemplify the kiss. 



118 



THE ISLE OF LOVE 

Oh, let us float within a boat 
Upon a sea of kisses 
Our oars of speech; 
And in Love's reach 
A madrigal of blisses. 

To cyprian coves, where Amor roves 

Inclines our destination: 

On an isle of isles 

Erect of smiles 

Our castle, w'thout cessation! 

We'll eat of fruits, and fragrant roots 
Gathered in Cere's garden — 
And O the breeze 
The flow'rs, and trees 
Shall be our forest Arden! 



119 



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